


Still Holding My Heart

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 66,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9381578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: Set in 2014. Phryne Fisher, freelance writer, finds herself in the middle of an investigation that brings her into close contact with someone she'd left behind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a modern AU for Phryne and Jack. It contains some course language and reference to drug use and violence.

He smiled, feeling lighter than he had all morning, checked his watch and looked up at the woman standing in his doorway.

“Nine in the morning, Fisher. Isn’t it a little early for you to be out of bed?”

“You can only dream of being privy to my sleeping habits, Jack. And is that any way to greet a friend bearing coffee? The good stuff too, not the swill you’ve got here,” she said, walking around to lean against his side of the desk. She set one of the coffees in front of him. “Been here all night?”

He was attired more casually than usual for work, most likely having dressed in a rush after getting the call in the middle of the night. Instead of his standard three piece suit he wore jeans and a linen shirt. His Triumph leather jacket hung from a hook on the wall, so fitted to his form that it retained the shape even while on the hanger. His hair, which he usually tried to control with pomade, was tumbling loose in waves that fell across his forehead.

Phryne always appreciated the sartorial elegance Jack presented when he was in official Chief Inspector mode, but she had to admit he looked good no matter what he wore, and often found herself wondering if he'd look equally good wearing nothing at all.

“You didn’t just come to bring me coffee,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“What do we know, so far? Jumped, fell or pushed?

“We, Fisher?”

“Alright, what do you know? Because I know plenty and I’m willing to share if you are.”

She pulled herself up so that she was sitting on his desk, leaned back and crossed her long legs. She looked smug and very pleased with herself.

“What can you possibly have already?”

“I’ve got her name, Jack. Her real name.”

“How?”

“I have my sources.”

He leaned back in his chair, putting his foot up against the desk and tossing his pen onto the desktop.

“Alright. Impress me.”

“She’s Angela Connors. Her parents are deceased, but she’s got a sister in Canberra, and she’s nineteen.”

“Shit. I could tell she was young, but—”

“Will she make it?”

“It'd be a miracle. The only reason she survived at all is because the awning broke her fall.”

“Pretty awful scene?”

“Collins retched into a hedge.”

She nodded, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Why are you interested in this one? We don’t even know if there was foul play yet,” he asked.

“A young girl falls from Alric Hotel in the middle of the night. She’s not a guest at the hotel and no one knows who she is or what room she came from. Let’s just say it piqued my interest. I’m just working on spec here, no one’s hired me to cover it. We can talk off the record if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Well, there’s not much I can tell you yet. I am waiting on the go ahead to talk to a witness.”

“Go ahead? From who?”

“A server in the bar last night put the girl in the company of a business man from Sydney. Apparently he’s a bit of a big shot. He’s staying in the penthouse. You need a special elevator code to get to that floor and the hotel won’t give it to me. I’m waiting on a warrant.”

“The man won’t talk to you on his own?”

“We spoke on the phone. He claims he’s been misidentified. Never laid eyes on the girl, that sort of thing. I want to get in the room to see if there’s any evidence of her having been there, but he has instructed the hotel not to allow anyone up.”

“What about security tapes?”

“The hotel has them in the elevators and hallways, not in the suites, but it wouldn’t help anyway. The tapes from last night have somehow become corrupted.”

“All of them?” She asked incredulously.

“Glitch in the system. Or, so I’m told.”

“Hmm.”

His phone rang and he shooed her off the desk to reach for it. She took the seat on the opposite side. As the conversation progressed, Jack become increasingly agitated.

“Of course, we’ll check again, but we did a preliminary search and there’s no evidence she was up on the roof. I believe she came from inside the hotel....Well, no, it’s just a theory...I just want to speak to the man. I’m not accusing him of anything....I do have cause, sir. There are witnesses that place him with her...Well, yes, he denies it, but——yes, commissioner , I understand that, but—”

The voice on the other end got louder. She couldn’t make out what it was saying, but it didn’t sound pleased.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass that his development is important to the city," Jack said, his voice rising now, “If he’s not involved, he’s got nothing to worry about, but he still has to talk to me.”

The voice on the other end was shouting now.

“I did not say that, sir, but if the shoe fits...You can’t be serious....You’re making a mistake....I...yes...yes, sir, you’ve made yourself very clear.”

Jack slammed the phone down, swore loudly and ran his hands over his face in frustration. He grabbed his jacket, picked up the helmet from his credenza and stalked out of his office. Phryne hurried after him.

“What was that? Where are you going?”

“I’m off the case,” he said, pushing his way through the front doors.

“What!?”

“The case is being reassigned. And, apparently, my behavior borders on insubordination. I’ve been told to go home and cool off. If I don’t think I can follow orders, I’m not to come back.”

“You’ll be fired?”

“If I don’t play nice, yes.”

She followed him out to the parking lot, watched him swing his leg onto his motorbike. She grabbed his arm

“Are you going to play nice?”

He looked at her intently for a moment.

“You should step back,” he said. He pulled on his helmet and started the bike.

“Jack! Where are you going?” She said, not moving.

He maneuvered the bike away from her slowly, once he was clear, he took off at a high rate of speed. 

He’d just parked the bike in the shed and made it in his back door when he heard pounding at the front of the house. He gave no greeting, just left the door hanging open and turned away, stripping off his jacket and dropping it on floor.

Jack was excessively tidy. The fact that he hadn’t hung it up told her he was beyond angry. She stepped in and shut door behind her, following him into the front room.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I thought you might to do something stupid.”

“Afraid you’d have to break in a new source, Fisher?" he spat. "You might as well start. I’ll be no use to you on this story.”

“Fuck you, Jack. How long have we known each other? I don’t care about the story. I’m worried about you.”

He ran his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Phryne. I shouldn’t take this out on you.”

“You shouldn’t, but it’s alright. Who do you think will replace you?”

“No idea. It’ll be someone better at toeing the line. They won’t even keep Hugh on, he’s too close to me. She’s nobody, Phryne. Just a kid, and you can bet they’ll be no one looking after her interests.”

“I know.”

“I was on the right track, too. If I wasn’t they wouldn’t be so scared.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Maybe I should resign. If I can be rendered this ineffectual, what good am I?”

“No. You can’t resign. We need more men like you in the police, not less.” She sat down on the couch and watched him pace the room restlessly. “Sit down, Jack.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to get out of here.”

He looked her over critically. The jeans and leather ankle boots would do, but she’d need more protection against the wind. That silk blouse wasn’t going to cut it.

He went to the hall closet and pulled out his old leather jacket, then rummaged in the back for the extra helmet. The one he’d bought for Jo. It had hardly been used. Jo hadn’t really liked to ride with him, had only pretended to, at first.

“You coming?” he said, holding out the offered items. “The jacket will be too big, but it’s the best I can do.”

She stood and let him help her into it without a word. He tried to ignore the way his heart clenched at the sight of her, the jacket hanging over her hips, her earnest efforts to roll the sleeves enough to uncover her hands.

She followed him out to the garden shed and stopped in front of his little white Yamaha. It was an economical bike, with excellent road handling and a solid V-twin engine. Nothing fancy, but suitable for his needs.

“We’re not taking that one,” he said. He tugged a canvas tarp from a second motorbike.

“Jack! It’s gorgeous,” she said, breathlessly. “What is it?”

“1936 Coventry Eagle Pullman. Two-seater,” he added unnecessarily, that part was obvious.

He looked at it lovingly. She was right, it was a beauty. He’d been stunned by how well maintained it had been when he found it, but it had still needed a lot of work to get it looking like it did now. It gleamed down to each individual bolt and rivet. He was ridiculously proud of it. He watched her run her hand over the worn brown leather of the driver’s seat, pleased by how much she seemed to like it.

“And, it runs?” 

“It does. I’ve made a few updates, but it won’t be as fast a ride as the Yamaha.”

“Are we in a hurry?” She asked.

He rolled it from the shed, got on and started it up. She swung onto the back confidently and wrapped her arms around him, and they cruised down the road at leisurely pace.

They headed toward the bay, cutting off onto side roads to avoid the gridlocked streets of Mornington, and then on to the Esplanade to ride alongside Port Phillip.

It was a route he often took when he needed to relax or think, but he was usually alone and didn’t take the time to stop along the way. Today, after a little more than an hour, he pulled off the road at a place near Cape Schank Lighthouse. They had a bite to eat and he allowed himself a beer, though normally he’d never touch alcohol while driving.

After eating they walked along the boardwalk by the lighthouse and down to the pebble beach, like tourists. It’d been ages since he’d done that and he was struck by the beauty of it, and by something else. Something about the way it felt to walk side by side with her here. There was no one around that might know them and no agenda.

He'd known Phryne for over a year and he’d always found her attractive, few men wouldn’t, but they’d avoided the trap of early lust and become friends. Good friends. He had long ago decided they were better that way, despite the increasing pull he felt toward her.

But, as they walked along the shore, their hands kept bumping against each other until he could no longer resist reaching for hers. Her fingers slipped easily between his and a new understanding seemed to blossom between them.

On the way back home, she shuffled closer, pressing against his back, her thighs tight around his hips. On some of the quieter stretches of road he’d let one hand drop to her knee. The passenger seat sat up higher than the driver’s, and she’d occasionally rest her chin on his shoulder. Her hold on him was firm but relaxed. He wished that he wasn’t wearing the helmet, because then he might be able to feel her breath on his ear.

They stopped again, for supper, just outside of town, more because neither was ready to end the evening than because they were hungry. When they pulled up in front of his little house he drove past her car on the curb to park the bike in the shed. She dragged her hand slowly across his body as she dismounted, then pulled off the helmet and shook her hair loose, smiling up at him. She was dazzling when she smiled like that.

There seemed to be no question that she was coming in the house. He shrugged off his jacket then helped her out of hers, letting his fingers brush against her shoulders and arms. He could feel the heat of her skin though the thin silk. She leaned back slightly and he caught a whiff of her perfume, and pressed a kiss lightly to the side of her neck. He dropped the jacket onto a chair as she turned to face him.

Her pupils were dilated, and he watched as her eyes dropped to his lips. He cautiously snaked his hand around her waist, heard her breath hitch, and the next moment his other hand was tangling up in her hair as he pulled her mouth to his. She wound her arms about his neck, squeezing her body tight to him, and returned the kiss with equal passion.

Somehow—he never would recall just how this happened— they made it to the sitting room and he was on the couch with her on top of him, straddling his lap, his hand up her blouse cupping one firm, round breast in his palm. She arched back, sighing, revealing her perfect throat to him and he latched on, kissing his way to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, trying to curb his enthusiasm so as not to mark her. She twisted against him and he saw stars.

“Phryne,” he growled, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” She suggested, running her hands over his chest, then down to his waistband where she began unbuckling his belt. He stopped her, holding her loosely by the wrists.

“Wait. Wait,” he panted. “We should slow down.”

“Whatever for?” She said, dropping her head to flick her tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat. “I get the distinct impression you want this,” she mumbled into his neck as she feathered it with kisses, “and so do I. I’ve wanted it for such a long time.”

“Have you?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

That got her attention and she sat up to look at him.

“Yes. Nearly from the beginning. You couldn’t tell?”

“You never said.”

She wasn’t exactly shy about this kind of thing. He knew she had—well, he wouldn’t call them frequent—but he was aware of her occasional dalliances. It was an old fashioned word, but seemed fitting for the casual approach she took.

“I was waiting for you to make a move,” she said. “I know you don’t do this kind of thing lightly.”

“I don’t,” he confirmed. “And, what about that, Phryne? How do you feel about that?”

“I’m not sure.” She slipped off his lap to sit by his side, putting about a foot of distance between them. His body protested her loss so loudly he could almost hear it screaming. “You’re not looking for some kind of commitment right now, are you?” She asked.

“No, but, you’re my friend, Phryne. You’re important to me. I don’t want to lose that, and I don’t want just one night. Not with you.”

He’d never actually admitted that to himself before. When had he gone from simply desiring her, to wanting more, and why was he saying this out loud? Now. Instead of carrying her to his room and making mad love to her all night long?

“We are friends, aren’t we?” She said. “I don’t want to lose you either. It does complicate matters.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, we are friends, but I think we could be more. If we do this right, we don’t have to lose anything.”

“How do we do it right?”

“By being honest with each other. So tell me? Is this just an inch you need to scratch?”

“What if it is?”

“Then, as much as it kills me to say this, I don’t think we take it any further. It’s more than that for me. How much more, I can’t say yet, but it’s more than that.”

“It’s more for me too. I care for you and I’m very attracted to you, but an ongoing thing? What would that look like, Jack? I’ve never really had a conventional, dating type of relationship.”

“What’s the longest you’ve dated someone?”

“Never long enough to keep track,” she said. “Do you find that surprising?”

“Not really. You’ve moved around a lot. And I can’t say that I haven’t noticed the lack of longevity in your romantic encounters.”

At first he’d wondered if there was some great pain in her past that kept her from any kind of romantic attachment, but he’d come to believe it was more about her personal freedom than any dark history.

“Whereas you, from what I’ve gathered, are a serial monogamist,” she said, leaning back on the arm of the couch and laying her legs across his lap. He slipped her boots off and began to massage her feet.

“I’ve had one long term relationship in my life and have barely dated since. Don’t know if ‘serial’ really fits, but it’s not entirely inaccurate. I’m pretty much a one at a time kind of guy.”

Phryne knew he’d been living with someone when they’d met, but the woman had moved out fairly earlier in her acquaintance with him.

“You never said what happened with Jo,” she said.

“You never asked,” he replied, which was just as well, since he’d have had a hard time explaining it anyway. “I probably could have done more to make it work,” he shrugged.

“Maybe you didn’t want it to,” she said.

“Maybe.”

He looked over at her. She looked slightly disheveled. Her blouse was untucked and half open, and her hair was a mess. She looked fantastic, and he felt his heart rate climbing again.

“Why are we talking about this? Oh, yes. My apparent preference toward monogamy and your fear of it.”

“I’m not afraid of it. I’ve just never been interested in it.”

“And now?” His hand caressed her ankle and moved slowly up her calf. “Is it something you might consider?”

“I think the idea has merit. Does that influence you at all?” She scooted closer to sit across his lap again, draping an arm around his neck and playing with the short hairs at the base of his skull.

“Not if you’re only saying it to get me in bed,” he said, but he kissed her anyway.

She tasted like heaven and he decided that, in that moment, the mere promise of her was enough. They could figure the rest out later. He slid an arm under her knees and stood up, lifting her with him. She kissed him sloppily, clinging to his neck as he carried her down the hall to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Six months later**

Jack watched as the body was removed from the room. It would be taken down by the back elevator to a coroner’s van that was waiting in the service bay. He hoped that would succeed in keeping it from view of the public and any paparazzi that might be loitering near the hotel. Even with the precautions he knew word would get out soon. He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut tight and pinching the bridge of his nose. What was supposed to be his day off was turning into a major headache. He took a deep breath and went to break the news to the man's manager.

 

* * *

 

“No need to rush off, luv.”

She heard him come from the bedroom and swore under her breath. She’d nearly made a clean getaway. If only she hadn’t wasted time rummaging for her bra. She’d considered leaving it behind, but it was her favorite. It was rare to find one that was both pretty and comfortable.

She quickly zipped and buttoned her jeans, smiling at him as he drew near and leaned in for a kiss. She turned her head slightly so it didn’t land full on her lips. He really was rather good looking, but it was a carefully managed image.

Adrian Cummings had been blessed with perfect, symmetrical features, but he'd lived hard, and on closer inspection she thought it probably took a host of dermatologists and perhaps a plastic surgeon or two to maintain his looks these days.

He was also a bit full of himself. She wasn’t sure what the attraction had been. She supposed he’d been entertaining enough, and more than decent in the sack. It’d been fun, but there was no point pretending she was interested in pursuing this further. She hoped he felt the same. She hated when things got awkward.

This was why she never stayed. It was much easier to get out as soon as she was done with them, while they were satisfied and sleepy, rather than go through this morning after charade. But the party had gone into the night, and later, her jet lag still clinging, she’d been too tired to make the effort required to leave.

“I really need to get going,” she said, pulling her hair back into a long sleek tail and twisting a band around it.

“At least grab some breakfast on your way out. It should be here any minute,” he said, slapping her on the ass and turning back into the bedroom, obviously indifferent.

That was a relief, though the ass-pat a bit demeaning.

At least they were on the same page and he wasn’t going to be one of those guys that felt the need to try and make this out to be more than it was. As she was digging out her other shoe from under a chair, there was a knock at the door. She hoped the tray would contain a muffin, or something she could grab on the go.

“I’ll get it,” she called.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

First ‘luv’ and now ‘sweetheart’. She wondered, with some amusement, if he even remembered her name. She pulled the door open and looked up. Her heart suddenly lodged in her throat.

The man on the other side of the door blinked in surprise. His gaze moved over her, and she was acutely aware of her appearance. The tight, black leather jeans, shimmering silk tank and Valentino Rockstud T-straps hanging from her fingertips.

That, along with her slightly puffy and sleep deprived complexion, practically shouted the information that she’d been here all night. A far stupider man than the one standing before her could’ve figured it out.

His lips turned up into a wry smirk. He arched an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as he met her eye in an expression she read as amused, but utterly unsurprised.

“Can you bring me a cuppa before you go?” Adrian called from the bedroom.

“It’s not breakfast,” Phryne called back, her voice flat with annoyance. “It’s the police.” She stepped aside and waved the newcomer into the room. “Morning, Jack,” she said.

“Good morning, Ms. Fisher.” He replied, stepping purposefully into the room. “I’m looking for Mr. Cummings.”

His steel blue eyes locked onto hers. A familiar feeling of welcome and warmth swept through her. It’d been too long since she’d felt it and it nearly overwhelmed her. Her body betrayed her as it swayed toward his. His eyes dropped to her lips and he took a step closer.

“Officer! Hello! What has my boy done now?”

Jack’s attention snapped to the man who had just entered the room wearing nothing but a hotel bathrobe. He came to stand next to Phryne, slinging an arm around her neck, which quickly put any questions Jack might have had about what had occurred between them to rest. He ignored the bitter taste in his mouth and focused on the task at hand. The man was talking.

“Whatever he’s done, I’m sure we can come to an agreement with the hotel without getting the police involved. I’ll just say goodbye to my guest, throw some clothes on and go see the manager straight away.”

Phryne extricated herself from under Adrian’s arm, looking from one man to the other. They weren’t at all similar, other than being close to the same height.

Adrian’s complexion was fair, almost pallid after a night of too much drink, and was a stark contrast against the dishonest, jet black color of his hair.

Jack, on the other hand, had skin the color of lightly toasted bread. He had the kind of face that at first appeared too perfect, with its high cheekbones and strong, square jaw. He looked as though he’d been hewn from marble. A gorgeous sculpture one could appreciate for its beauty, but not something live and breathing.

It wasn’t until you spent more time looking at him that you noticed the imperfections that made it so hard to tear your eyes away. The slightly upturned nose. The long slash of a mouth that was so reluctant to turn up into smile. When it did it felt like you'd won a prize.

Until you got to know him. Then the smiles came easily, but were no less rewarding.

His chestnut brown hair, shot with gold highlights, tumbled over his head in unruly waves he tried vainly to tame, and his eyes could range from stormy to sparkling in the matter of a second. Were they blue, or were they grey? You had to get close to be sure. You could read everything in those eyes. Once you knew how.

Where Adrian was thick and broad, Jack was lean and wiry and Phryne knew the power that lay under that impeccably tailored three piece suit. Next to Jack, Adrian cut a poor figure, and Phryne was almost embarrassed.

She didn’t think she had anything to be ashamed of, but this was not how she had wanted her first encounter with Jack to go. She knew he sometimes questioned her taste in men and she’d just handed him a stellar reason to be glad to be rid of her. Not that she imagined he needed any reasons other than the ones she’d already given him.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Cummings,” Jack said. “You might want to take a seat. I have some upsetting news.”

* * *

 

Jack didn’t have to look back to know she was hot on his heels as he left the hotel suite. He pressed the button for the elevator as she came to a stop at his side. She’d slipped on an elegant, blush colored tuxedo jacket that matched the shade of her ridiculously high-heeled shoes. How she moved so gracefully in those things was a mystery to him. In fact, Phryne Fisher had proved to be an endless source of mystery to him. He used to enjoy that. He liked a good mystery, or he wouldn’t have chosen this line of work.

However, he hadn’t been prepared to see her today, and the last thing he needed was her in the middle of this case.

“I can’t believe he’s dead. What happened?”

“Nothing I can discuss with a civilian,” he said, brusquely.

“This is huge. Do you suspect foul play?” She asked, ignoring his brush off.

He remained impassive and silent.

“Come on, Jack! It’s me.”

“Exactly. You’re not getting a word out of me,” he said, stubbornly. “You’ve heard too much already. And, from the looks of things I’m going to have to interview you as a witness. You can’t cover the story, Phryne. It’d be unprofessional.”

He had a point. From what she’d just heard the death had occurred not long after the party broke up. The police would need to talk to everyone that was there. This was going to be the biggest story out there and she probably shouldn’t touch it.

“Cheer up,” he said. “There will be something new right around the corner. There always is.”

“Bigger than this?” She asked.

“Probably not,” he admitted with a shrug, wondering if he was still talking about the case. He held the elevator door open for her.

“I forgot my bag,” she said suddenly, glancing back down the hall. “You go on. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

“I trust you’ll be available when we need to get your statement?” he asked.

“You know how to reach me,” she said, cheerfully.

"Sure," he said, coldly.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, she turned on her heels and headed down the hall, past Adrian’s room, to one a few steps away, where a uniformed officer she didn’t recognize stood on the door. As she did her best to persuade him to let her inside the room, a familiar face appeared.

“I’ll take care of this, constable,” Sergeant Hugh Collins said, stepping in front of her to block the doorway. Phryne gave him her most charming smile. She’d been expecting to find him here. He was Jack’s right hand man, but far easier to manipulate than his boss.

“I can’t let you in,” Hugh said firmly, expressing only the tiniest bit of surprise at seeing her. She frowned. He was becoming more and more like his mentor every day.

“What? No greeting, Hugh? I’m hurt,” she pouted prettily. “I won’t disturb a thing,” she promised. “I was here last night and I think I might have left my bag inside. I’ll just quickly retrieve it and be on my way.”

“Can’t do it, Phryne. He’ll have my head,” Hugh said.

“It will only take a second, I know just where it is,” she said, trying to peer around him into the room. He was frustratingly broad shouldered with a solid physique, and really, very attractive in a boyish way.

Hugh Collins was a bit of an enigma. A solid cop, but a little naive, with a wide-eyed innocence unusual for a man in his profession. She could easily fluster him, but refrained from overtly flirting, mostly because he was dating her research assistant, Dot, and they were rather sickeningly mad for each other.

“Tell me where it is and I’ll get it for you,” Collins said, holding up his hand to stop any forward progress on her part. “You wait here.”

“Oh, thank you, Hugh! It should be just behind that chair,” she said, pointing to the far side of the room, then following quietly behind him when he turned in that direction. She had just cleared the threshold and begun to look around when she felt a familiar hand grip her elbow.

“I thought I made myself clear,” Jack hissed in her ear. “And you, Collins, when will you learn not to turn your back on her?”

Hugh spun around, looking surprised to see her inside the room. She shrugged, apologetically.

“Sorry, chief,” Hugh said, glaring at Phryne and shaking his head at her betrayal.

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Jack said. “I can’t believe I fell for that. I must be getting slow.”

He turned her, holding firm to her elbow, and steering her back into the hallway.

“It’s a huge story, Jack, and I’m right here, on the scene,” she complained, “there’s really no reason I can’t write it. I mean, I’m hardly involved, and once I make my statement, I’m good to go!”

“Until we know more about what’s going on here, I’ve no idea how involved you are,” he said.

“Really, Jack? I know you’ve got a job to do, but let’s drop the facade. You don’t believe for one second I’ve anything to do with this,” she said. “How about I promise to answer all your questions, if you promise you’ll keep me in the loop?”

“You’re hardly in a position to ask for promises, and the only one I’m making is to escort you all the way out of the building this minute,” he said, pushing her into the elevator.

His hand at the base of her spine sent a jolt though her and she could still feel the heat after he’d removed it. He punched the button for the lobby with more force than needed, and stood facing forward, his eyes on the door.

Being alone with him, in such a confined space had her feeling too warm and a little anxious. He looked just as she remembered him. But why shouldn’t he? It hadn't been that long. In fact it felt like yesterday.

He smelled the same too. The familiar scent of his cologne, a subtle, clean fragrance, filled her head and left her slightly dizzy.

“Your hair is longer,” he said, his deep, warm voice rumbling through the small space and into her bones.

“Yes,” she said, quietly. She’d let it grow out while she was away and it now fell in long layers to several inches past her shoulder. She liked the way it revealed the natural wave when let down and it was easy to pull back and keep out of the way.

“When did you get back?” he asked, without turning his head. It would have sounded like a casual question to anyone else, but she heard the wound.

“Just yesterday.”

Everything else she wanted to say stuck in her throat. She wanted to say that she was sorry they’d lost touch. That she’d meant to call. That she’d pulled up his contact info a dozen times, but never followed through, because she hadn’t known what to say.

It had just turned out to be too difficult. He took up too much space in her head and messed with her concentration.

She’d always loved going to new places, meeting new people, but this time she’d found herself listening with half an ear, the other half trained for the ringtone she’d assigned to his calls. Any text notification vibrating in her pocket would send her heart racing until she could check it.

She’d missed him. More than she’d ever imagined she could miss anyone. And she hadn’t liked the feeling.

Her job, her lifestyle, depended on her independence. She wanted to be able to pick up and go wherever her whim took her. That’s the life she’d determined to lead years ago and she could see no reason to change it. Not even for him.

They'd been good friends. Then the sex had turned out to be all she had imagined it might be, and she’d let herself get carried away. There'd been quite a lot of sex just before she left and that could mess with your head.

She’d read all about the hormones released during intercourse. How women produce oxytocin which can lower defenses and increase empathy. There were theories that posited it could cause a woman to “fall in love” with their sexual partners.

Men, on the other hand, mainly released dopamine—the pleasure hormone—during orgasm, and were supposedly not as likely to experience this “bonding” aspect of sex.

She’d always that that was a bunch of bunk. She got plenty of pleasure from sex, and more often than not, it was her male partner that wanted the relationship to continue. She’d never felt any crushing loss at the end of a short-term relationship, or one night stand. She was selective in her partners, and for the most part, remembered them fondly.

Jack was the first man, the only man, in her memory, with whom she had wanted something more. Something beyond the fun and sex, though she couldn’t put her finger on just what that would be.

Whatever is was, the pining for him had to stop, and she couldn’t stop it with repeated reminders, so she’d just quit responding to his calls until his messages dried up. It hadn’t been fair, or kind, but it had been what she needed to do to survive.

It would be fine in the end, she’d told herself. When she got back home they could reestablish the friendship—or not, if he wasn’t inclined to—either way, she was sure she’d be able to move on. She always did before, why would this be different?

Now, after two minutes in his presence, she was already remembering why she’d missed him so badly.

She chanced a glance in his direction. He was watching the lighted numbers as they slid by in descending order.

“I was able to pursue that story while I was in New York. It will be in next month’s issue of Australian Vogue, ” she said, in what she hoped was a conversational tone. “It kept me really busy and there’s still some background to be done, but it’s almost in the bag.”

“I’m not a subscriber, but I’ll try to pick up a copy at a stand,” he said, in a manner so perfunctory it made her heart sink.

The elevator stopped and the door slid open. Once on the sidewalk he took her elbow again.

“My car is this way,” he said.

“I can find my own way home,” she said.

“You’re not going home. You’re coming to the station to give your statement.”

“Not now, Jack. I’m tired and dressed inappropriately for the station. Let me go home to shower and change. Then I’ll come in straight away.”

“You forfeited that chance. I can’t trust you ‘til it’s done,” he said.

She inhaled sharply, opening her mouth to object, but decided it would serve her purposes better to go along. She figured the more time they spent together, the sooner they could be friends again. When they got to the car, he opened the back door for her.

“Can’t I ride up front with you?”

“That’s not proper protocol, Ms. Fisher,” he said. “You’re a witness. You ride in the back. The car’s unmarked. Your reputation is safe. I’ll just look like your driver.”

“That’s not what I meant, Jack. You’ve always let me ride up front.”

“Don’t make this difficult, Phryne. Get in the back. Please.”

She slid into the seat then, and sat back wrapping her arms around herself. They didn’t speak another word on the ride to the station. She fell in at his side on the familiar route to his office and was caught by surprise when he stopped abruptly a few feet before the door.

“Benz,” he barked, and a young, female officer immediately leapt to her feet.

“Yes, sir?”

“Grab a pad and take this witness to interview one. I’ll meet you there in a minute,” Jack said.

“Yes, sir. This way, miss,” the young officer said, coming to Phryne’s side.

Phryne watched Jack walk away. When he turned around again, and caught her eye, a flicker of hope flamed in her chest.

“Have you eaten this morning, Ms. Fisher?” he asked, then without waiting for an answer, turned his gaze on his officer. “Get her a bagel or something from the break room and a cup of tea. She doesn’t like our coffee.”

“Of course. You want anything, sir?”

“No thanks, I’ll get my own.”

“This way, miss,” Benz repeated, but Phryne stood rooted to the spot, her eyes locked on Jack’s retreating back. “Miss? This way, please.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne's in the hot seat.

Jack shrugged his suit coat off his shoulders and hung in on the back of his chair. His hands gripped the hard wood underneath and he leaned forward, letting his head hang for a minute.

He’d held it together well, he thought, but for that one slip up. As soon as the elevator doors closed, he’d realized his mistake. Thankfully he’d caught up with her just as she’d got past Collins.

Leave it to her to come home and immediately stumble into this case. One that he wouldn’t even be involved in if the commissioner hadn’t assigned it to him specifically, even calling him in on his day off. Jack knew the assignment was a test of his loyalties rather than a ringing endorsement.

The hotel was the sight of that earlier case that still stuck in Jack’s craw. The investigating officer that replaced him had decided—barely a day after the girl fell, and with minimal investigation—that she’d simply gotten drunk and fallen from the roof after ignoring the off limits signs to gain access. No blame went to the hotel and no stain fell on any of its guests.

The hotel owner, Alistair Alric, was well known in Melbourne, had his hand in an obscene number of businesses in town, and was a bit of a local celebrity. Jack had suspected Alric had put pressure on the commissioner to bring the case to a swift conclusion in order to avoid any negative publicity.

He’d had to keep those thoughts to himself in order to remain a member of the Victoria Police.

Well, almost to himself. There had been one person he’d confided in.

Of course she’d turn up again now. In that damned hotel, of all places. In the middle a case where he was being watched closely and expected to tread carefully. Nothing like having a loose cannon in the mix to keep him on his toes. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, as long as he could keep his wits around her.

He checked his watch wondering how long he should make her wait. It was a delicate balance with a witness. You needed to send the message that you were in charge, without irritating to the point where they became uncooperative.

But, she wasn’t just any witness. Phryne Fisher was the single most observant person he knew, including, he grudgingly admitted, himself.

She’d be able to tell him who was at that party, who had left with whom, and what might have been going on in the back rooms, out of sight. Her information would probably prove invaluable to him. Preliminary signs pointed to nothing more than an accidental overdose, but he needed to be thorough.

He picked up the phone and made a call to Collins to remind him to impress upon hotel management the need to keep things quiet, not that that was likely to help much, but it had to be said.

Next, he called Mac to get an estimate on when the preliminary autopsy report would be done. He almost asked if she’d known that Phryne was back, but that would be inappropriate and more than a little pathetic.

He’d stalled long enough.

Jack lifted the suit coat from his chair, putting it on again, throwing his shoulders back and straightening his tie. He checked his reflection in the glass of his office door. The one that read, Chief Inspector J. Robinson.

* * *

 

Phryne sat cooling her heels with a skittish Constable Benz.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” she said, “I’m Phryne Fisher.”

“I know who you are,” the young woman said. “I’ve read some of your work.”

“Oh? That’s nice. I used to spend a bit of time here, but I’ve been away recently. Are you new to City South?”

“I was assigned here after graduating the academy about two months ago.”

“And how are you liking the work?”

By the time Jack got there, Phryne and Constable Benz were chatting amiably as though they were at a cocktail party. So much for keeping her off balance.

He sat down across the table, settling his coffee cup, phone and pad of paper in front of him while avoiding her eyes.

“Officer Benz, please start the recorder and mark the time. Interview of—”

“Um, excuse me. Before we start, could I get glass of water? If it’s not too much trouble,” Phryne said. He looked up, his expression unreadable.

“Benz, get the witness some water.”

“What are you thinking, Jack? Overdose?” Phryne asked, leaning forward conspiratorially once they were alone. “Cause that’d be big news, considering Kit’s whole clean living and new found spirituality claims.”

“The interview is suspended until Officer Benz returns,” he said, scribbling notes on the pad. She continued, undeterred.

“It’s not often an internationally known and beloved rock star—a hometown boy made good—drops dead in a Melbourne hotel owned by Alistair Alric. It’s an important case, Jack. I’m glad they’ve got you on it,” she said.

“Flattery won’t make me more forthcoming, Ms. Fisher.” He lifted his eyes from the pad for a mere second, before returning to his scribbling.

“I wasn’t trying to flatter you. I mean it, Jack. If anyone will do this right, it’s you.” She reached across the table and laid her hand over his. He pulled back as if burnt.

All the air seemed to escape the room. He hadn’t expected her to touch him and was taken aback by his visceral reaction. He was behaving like an ass, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He could see she was thrown too, and maybe even a little hurt. Well, too bad.

Her behavior was infuriating. She was acting as though they’d just seen each other yesterday. As if everything was normal between them. Had it meant so little to her? Had he meant so very little to her that she didn’t even understand what she’d done? Did she really expect to just waltz back in?

They’d been friends for far longer than they’d been lovers. He’d relied on her. He thought they’d relied on each other. He didn’t know which was the worse, losing his lover, or his best friend. The two were too mixed up in his head to separate.

He’d all but expected her to find ‘distractions’ while they were apart. It would have been unrealistic to think otherwise. Phryne was a sensual being and very—tactile. He’d been prepared for that. It was the total silence that had rocked him.

Benz returned and he took a deep breath, reached over and started the recorder.

“Interview of Ms. Phryne Fisher, witness B, 10:13 a.m. Tuesday, January 21, 2014. Chief Inspector Jack Robinson conducting, assisted by Constable Maria Benz. Ms. Fisher. Can you give us a brief recounting of how you came to be at the party in the penthouse of the Alric Hotel on the night of January 20, 2014?”

“Who’s A”

“Pardon?”

“If I’m witness B, who is A?”

“I’d appreciate your taking this seriously, Ms. Fisher,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Please stick to answering the questions asked.”

“As you wish,” she said.

She seemed put out, though he couldn’t imagine what she had to be upset about.

“The party?” he reminded her.

“On a recent flight from Sydney I met a music producer who invited me to the concert and the backstage meet and greet. From there we went on to the party.”

“That show was sold out months ago. Tickets were selling for four times the face value. Your new friend must have taken quite a liking to you.”

“I’m a likeable person.”

Phryne hadn’t been surprised by Jack’s cool, aloof facade. She’d seen him use it often. He sometimes liked to start off an interview by putting the witness on the back foot, especially if he thought that witness was a slippery one. All of that was expected, but his reaction to her touch—that was not.

That had been like a slap, but she’d be damned if she let her pain show in this room, where he was in authority over her.

“This generous date of yours, does he have a name?” he asked.

“ _Her_ name is Stephanie Soren,” she said, smugly.

His slow blink and clenched jaw informed her that he was angry with himself for making assumptions. She sat back, smiling sweetly.

“Steph didn’t stay at the party long, so I don’t know how much help she’d be, but I’d be happy to give you her number.”

“Thank you,” He shoved his notepad over, open to a fresh sheet, and waited while she wrote down the information. “So your friend left and you stayed on at the party alone?”

“I stayed after she left, but I was not alone. There were plenty of other people still there.”

“Of course. And, did you get a chance to meet Kit Wainscot at the party?”

“Yes.”

“And, Mr. Cummings. Did you meet him there, as well?”

“I did.”

“You’d never made either’s acquaintance before?”

“No. I met them both, for the first time, last night,” she said, crisply.

He looked up from his notepad. “You understand I’m just trying to establish the extent of your relationship with the parties involved. I’m sorry if any of these questions make you uncomfortable.”

“They don’t. Ask away.”

The interview lasted just over an hour. Phryne had been unsurprisingly detailed in her memory. Far from sticking to answering questions, she added her fair share of entertaining, but unnecessary anecdotes. Most likely for the benefit of his constable, who seemed charmed. Finally, Jack snapped off the recorder and stood up, gathering his papers.

“You’ve been very helpful, Ms. Fisher. Please call Officer Benz should you remember any further details. Thank you for your time. ”

“Jack, wait,” Phryne said, following him from the room and chasing him down the hall.

Officer Benz followed behind, confused as to how to proceed. There’d been an odd tension in the room, and now the witness was calling the chief by his first name while chasing him into his office. When Ms. Fisher wasn’t immediately chucked out, Benz decided her initial impression was confirmed. Something personal was going on here, and it didn’t involve her.

“I can’t talk to you about the investigation. How many times must I say it?” Jack said, sitting behind his desk and immediately turning his attention to the paperwork on top of it.

“What was that in there?” Phryne accused, coming around to perch next to him in her usual spot on the desk.

“What was what?” he said, shuffling through his papers.

“You’re so cold and formal. Calling me Ms. Fisher. Not looking at me, and—when I touched you—”

“You took me by surprise. When someone makes a move toward you in the interview room it’s not always friendly. I reacted on instinct. And, as for being formal, well, I’m working, Phryne. And you’re a witness. I have to maintain a level of detachment.”

He tugged at a folder to dislodge it from under her ass. “Do you mind?” he barked.

She retreated to the chair on the other side of the desk. Flopping down, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Whatever was in that folder he’d picked up must be fascinating.

“A level of detachment.” She repeated his words back at him. “So, you’re not angry with me?”

“Should I be?”

“Probably. I know I wasn’t—I didn’t—” she sighed. “While I was away. I wasn’t the best correspondent.”

He stopped fussing with the items on his desk and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow at the understatement.

“Well, you’ll get no argument there, but you don’t need to explain. I’m a big boy, Phryne. I got the hint,” he smiled, tightly. “Might’ve taken me a bit longer than it should’ve, what with me being a detective and all, but you got through eventually.”

“I wasn’t trying to send a message. I was just so busy.”

“Of course.”

More paper shuffling. God how she hated his ability to maintain a thick outer shell. If he’d get visibly angry, or even laugh at her ridiculous attempt to downplay the significance of her silence, she might crack through.

Or, she could try being honest with him. She fidgeted in her seat. The right words just wouldn’t come. Instead, she dug in.

“I was very busy,” she said defensively, “I was working.”

“Like I am now,” he said, spreading his hand wide over the desktop, “or, I’m trying to...””

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Phryne. I’m fine. We’re fine. If you’re worried I’ll shut you out, you needn’t be. You know I’ll give you what information I can. When I can. Which is not now.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? I really have a lot to do. Big, important case here.”

He was growing increasingly impatient with her. But what did she expect? She’d known exactly how he’d take her silence over the months and she’d done it anyway, telling herself it was what she wanted. Steadfastly ignoring the pain in her gut every time he came to mind, until it’d been worn down to a dull ache.

“Alright. I’ll let you work. But, meet me for drinks tonight,” she said. “We can catch up then.”

“Why?”

“It’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

Now _there_ was a look she could read, and it tore her heart out.

“I can’t tonight. I’ve got plans,” he said.

“It can be late,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and hoping she didn’t sound like she was begging. “The change in time zones has me all screwed up anyway.”

“Not tonight,” he said firmly, then he sighed. His shoulders slumped and his tone softened a little. “Maybe another time. Alright?”

“Alright,” she said. “When?”

“I’ll have to let you know.”

His phone started ringing and he looked at her with an expression that could only be a dismissal as he picked it up.

“Robinson,” he said, giving her a small nod as she stood to go.

She felt adrift and checked her phone while waiting for the elevator, just to have something to do.

News of the death was blowing up all over social media. People were expressing their shock and mourning in 140 characters or less. “Celebrities Weep for Melbourne’s Urban Poet” cried the Daily Mail. The article was little more than a collection of tweets from the famous and wanna be famous.

There were other articles that had critics and scholars pontificating on Kit Wainscot’s contributions to music and culture. These articles were in the same publications that had vilified him and reveled in his earlier downfall.

Along with all the adulation, there was rampant speculation as to the cause of death and murmurings that drugs had been his undoing. That despite his best efforts, and apparent years of sobriety, he’d succumbed to old demons.

People would scramble to buy his work. There would be re-releases of greatest hits and obscure B-sides, and somewhere a cache of recorded but never released songs would be found, quickly produced and got on the market. An artist was never so beloved in life as in death.

But, Kit had been loved in life too. You could hardly have grown up in Melbourne, and more specifically Collingwood, without feeling somewhat proprietary about the man. He’d been an ordinary guy, growing up and going to school on the same streets she had, and he’d made it to international stardom.

Then came his spiral into drugs and subsequent rise from the ashes, which only added to his myth. Everyone liked a good redemption story. A second chance.

She’d enjoyed Kit’s music, though she wouldn’t have called herself an ardent fan. Still, when the chance to meet him had come, she’d never considered passing it up. Who could’ve imagined it would be the last opportunity?

She hadn’t spent much time with Kit at the party, but she considered herself a good judge of people, and in the time she had spent with him she had formed an impression inconsistent with the idea of a drug overdose. She’d seen no drugs present in the suite, and that in itself was unusual for such a gathering.

There’d been plenty of alcohol, but she didn’t see Kit touch it and it was a tamer event than similar ones she’d attended. There were the usual industry types present, and a few rabid fans that had somehow been lucky enough to gain attendance, but Kit mostly surrounded himself with old friends, a few dating all the way back to his school days.

She suddenly recalled one man, a childhood friend that had been there for only a short time. Hamish, something or other. She’d seen him in a brief and private looking conversation with Kit. She’d forgotten to mention him in her interview.

It might be inconsequential, but she should tell Jack in case no one else remembered the man.

She was halfway back to his office, when she stopped. He was so angry with her. No, it was worse than anger. He was hurt. She’d hurt him.

She dug the card Officer Benz had given her from her pocket and made the call from the lobby.


	4. Chapter 4

She should go home. She had a story to finish, but after leaving City South Phryne felt restless and knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly. There were an alarming number of confusing thoughts and emotions running through her head. She didn’t want to be alone with them. There was only one place she could think to go.

“I’d give you a hug, but as I’ve just had my hands in this guy’s chest cavity...”

“Thanks anyway. Is this a bad time?” Phryne asked, holding out one of the two cups of coffee she held.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Mac said, glancing at the cadaver on the table. She stripped the rubber gloves off, tossing them in the bin, then hung her rubber apron on a hook on the wall. Then she gave Phryne a proper hug. They wrapped their arms around each other and headed out into the hall.

“I thought you’d be autopsying the body from this morning,” Phryne said quietly, not wanting to say the name out loud in a public corridor.

“Is that why you’re here?” Mac exclaimed. “I should’ve known this visit had nothing to do with wanting to see your oldest friend! And, come to think of it, why didn’t I know you were back?”

“I just got back yesterday and I’ve done little else than try to overcome my jet lag.”

“Funny. I usually overcome jet lag by curling up in my jammies, not going out to the clubs,” Mac said, looking Phryne up and down.

Mac pushed through the door and into courtyard, pulling a pack of nicotine gum from her pocket and jamming a piece into her mouth.

“How’s that going, by the way,” Phryne asked. Mac’s smoking had been a bone of contention between her and her partner.

“Fine,” Mac said, irritably.

“I didn’t come to pump you for information on the Wainscot case. Jack told me I have to stay away from the story because I’m a witness.”

“A witness? Back in town two minutes and already in the middle the biggest story of the year,” Mac said. “How’d you manage that?”

Phryne told Mac about being at the party and how she’d answered the hotel room door when Jack came to break the news to Wainscot’s manager.

“Interesting,” was Mac’s only comment.

“I think Jack was surprised to see me, but you know him, he didn’t let on much,” Phryne said.

“So Jack didn’t know you were back either?”

“Not until that moment.”

“Interesting.”

“Could you stop saying that?”

“Sorry. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. I’d have thought—but, it’s none of my business.”

“What?”

“Well, I thought you and Jack—before you left—I thought you had something going on. Weren’t you sleeping together?”

“Yes. But it was fairly new, nothing committed.”

“Oh. So it’s over now? I guess that explains a few things.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s entirely over...but, I suppose it is...yes, I guess it is.”

“Phryne?”

“I messed up there Mac. I think I hurt him. I stopped returning his calls.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I said. I stopped responding whenever he tried to reach me.”

“Just stopped? Ignored his messages?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Did he do something to upset you?”

“No.”

“Get clingy?”

“No.”

“Were the international rates cleaning you out?” Mac said, sarcastically.

“Oh, I don’t know why I did it. It made sense at the time,” Phryne said. “But, he’ll hardly look at me now and when I asked him to have drinks tonight he made up some previous plans.”

“I don’t think he’s making anything up, Phryne. Her name is Connie and he met her on New Years.”

“Really? How nice for him,” she said, sitting down heavily on the bench, then crossing her legs, in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner, to hide the fact that her knees had given out. One look at Mac told her she’d failed utterly.

“At least it makes sense to me now,” Mac said. “He didn’t tell me you’d dumped him.”

“I didn’t dump him! We weren’t together. Not really. Well, maybe we were,” Phryne lamented. “Do you think it’s serious? With this—woman?”

“Connie,” Mac said.

“Whatever. Is it serious?”

Mac laughed. “It’s hardly been long enough for that. I think this would only be their third or fourth date.”

“A lot can happen in three or four dates. How is it you know so much about this?”

“Connie works with Claire, and I may have introduced her to Jack. Inadvertently.”

“How do you inadvertently introduce someone?”

“Well, I meant to introduce them—it was a party and that’s what one does at a party—introduce your guests to each other. I just meant that I wasn’t trying to set them up.”

“The party was at your place?”

“Yes. On New Year’s Eve. I didn’t think Jack would even come. You know how he is with parties. But he’d recently had some bad news and was brooding, so I nagged. Thought it would do him good. I was a little surprised when he and Connie went out. Actually, I was feeling a bit angry on your behalf, but now it makes more sense.”

“Jack and I didn’t make any promises to each other before I left. He was free to see whoever he liked,” Phryne said, wondering why she felt the need to defend him. “So was I.”

“So, this guy from last night? Are you going to see him again?”

“Gawd, no!”

“Okay,” Mac laughed. “Enough about that then. I want to hear all about your trip, but I really need to get back to work. Do you want to meet for drinks later?”

“That’d be great.”

“I should be done around six,” Mac said, standing to head back inside.

“Sure. Hey, Mac? What happened?”

“What?

“You said Jack was brooding. Do you know why?”

“Oh,” Mac paused, “Do you remember that case with the girl that fell from the Alric Hotel?”

“Angela Connors,” she said. She remembered the case, but her most vivid recollection from that day was of the moment he took hold of her hand.

“She died from her injuries,” Mac said. “It wasn’t unexpected. She never woke from the coma.”

“When did this happen?” Phryne asked.

“Her sister decided to remove life support the day after Christmas. She didn’t last long.”

Phryne nodded numbly as the blood rushed from her head. She and Jack had tracked the sister down. He wasn’t suppose to, but no one else was bothering. The sister had moved on from Canberra and the new investigator didn’t do much to seek her further, so they’d found her. Together.

“He tried to call me,” she said. “I thought it was just for the holiday.”

It had been at least two months since he’d last attempted to contact her. When she saw his number flash up on her phone that day, she’d almost answered, but before she could make up her mind the ringing stopped.

“Am I a terrible friend, Mac?”

“Of course not.”

“You and I go months without talking and it’s always fine. When we see each other again, it’s like no time has passed.”

“True. It isn’t really the same thing though, is it. Jack was in love with you. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So, what were you doing? It’s not like you to play with people. Or, was it understood that it was something casual?”

“No. Not exactly. He told me up front that it couldn’t be a casual thing for him.”

“And you agreed to that?”

“More or less, but it was early days, we were still figuring things out, and then I got that opportunity in New York.”

“What did he think of that?”

“He said it was rotten timing—for us. But it was only a six month assignment. I fully intended to come back. He suggested we put the relationship—how did he put it—‘on pause,’ I think it was.”

“He hoped to resume things when you got back?”

“Well, yes. That was the idea.”

“So, basically, the man told you he loved you. Told you to go ahead and live your life, and that he’d be waiting for you when you got back. Is that about it?”

“Not in those exact words.” This conversation wasn’t making her feel any better.

“And you kept in touch?”

“Not a lot, but enough. The time difference made it challenging and he’s not much for sending texts. You should see him,” she said, “cradling that little phone in his big hands and stabbing away with an index finger. And, don’t even get me started on his opinion of social media. He’s such an old man sometimes.”

He was forever making fun of what he called her ‘carefully curated’ Instagram account. She’d tried to explain to him that she was a bit of a public figure, and a certain online persona was expected of her. He thought the whole concept of documenting your life online was absurd.

“Did you know he has an Instagram?” Phryne laughed. “Not by choice. I stole his phone and made an account for him and then I made him follow me. He’s DIJack, but don’t bother following him. He never posts anything.”

“I don’t get it. You’re friends. You’re lovers, even. And I know you care for him. Then one day you just decided to ignore his messages with no explanation?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds awful.”

“Is there another way to put it? You blew him off. You told him it was over without even the courtesy of actually telling him. The man has his pride, Phryne. What did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think that far ahead. Do you think it’s fixable?”

Mac sighed. “Do you want it to be? Listen. I don’t mean to run out on you, but I’ve really got to get back to work. See you later?”

“Sure. Sounds good,” Phryne said.

Phryne remained sitting on the bench as the coffee grew cold in her cup. What _had_ she expected to happen? Had she really thought she could breeze back in and he’d welcome her with open arms? She’d as much as told him to move on.

So, he’d moved on.

Now someone else was enjoying his dry sense of humor and wit, his kindness and generosity. Someone else had discovered that holding his hand could be utterly comforting, but somehow electrifying at the same time. Someone else was on the receiving end of those bone melting kisses and falling asleep in his arms.

She tried to be glad that he might have someone to turn to, that he wasn’t alone, but the thought of his hands on another woman’s skin, making her come apart at the seams the way she had, left her sick to her stomach.

She was suddenly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home, pull the covers up over her head and sleep for a year.

A few hours later, she stumbled to the bath for a wee, sent a text to Mac begging off of drinks, and crawled back into bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward?

“We’re still tracking down witnesses,” Collins said, flipping through his notes from the day. “I’ve compared the list we got from Cummings to the one Phryne gave you. Phryne’s was more complete. She managed to get quite a few names last night. I’ve requested the CCTV footage from cameras around the hotel and we’re already going through the hotel tapes.”

The first thing Jack had done was to secure the hotel’s security tapes, before they could go missing. There were no cameras in the rooms, but there was one in every elevator, so they should be able see anyone that went up to the penthouse floor.

“Good work. We’ll need someone digging up photos of as many of the known party guests as possible and then comparing them with the footage to make sure we’ve identified everyone that was there. I got the entire day’s footage so we can check who came and went from the room before the party too.”

“How many men should I put on it? Seems a lot of leg work when we don’t even know yet if this was foul play.”

“Agreed, but our victim is high profile and the death occurred in a well known venue. People are watching us closely on this one. We need to stay on top of things.”

“What’s your gut say about it?”

“It says we’re not lucky enough for this to be easy,” Jack said. Hugh nodded in agreement.

“So,” Hugh said. “Did you know she was back?” He didn’t need to explain who he was talking about.

“Not until this morning.”

“I don’t think anyone did. Dotty only found out she was coming home the day before yesterday,” Hugh said. “Speaking of Dotty. She’s been away at her sisters. Just got back. Do you think you’ll need me tonight?”

“Got plans, I take it,” Jack said smiling. Hugh always lit up when he spoke of his girl.

“I can reschedule.”

“No. There’s no need for that. I’ve got plans myself,” he checked the time. “In fact, I’ll need to leave soon.”

“Connie again? How’s that going?” Hugh asked. “What is this, your fourth date?”

“Third. I had to cancel on her the other day.”

“But, it’s going well?” Hugh pushed. He knew Dotty would want some kind of update on Jack’s situation.

“It’s going fine. I suppose,” Jack said. “Why don’t you take off soon too? Try to be in early tomorrow. We should have some information from the lab by then.”

“Will do, boss,” Hugh said. He knew not to push any further.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack stood at the sink in the Gents, and splashed cold water over his face trying to collect his thoughts. Of all the places, why had he brought his date here, knowing it was a favorite haunt of _hers_?

How was he suppose to concentrate on anything Connie was saying with _her_ in his line of vision. He wondered if he could suggest they change seats, but how would he explain that? He’d just have to man-up and make it through dinner. He stepped out into the darkened hallway.

She blocked his path. Her face was in shadow, but her eyes shined in the dull light.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, sharply.

“Just came out for a drink. Are you having a nice evening?”

“Yes, thank you,” he lied.

“What’s she like, Jack?”

“She’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” she said, stepping close. Her ruby lips pulled his focus. “You don’t want sweet.”

She trailed a finger from his chest to his abdomen, hooking it behind his belt buckle and tugging him back, behind a curtain, into the hidden alcove where an old payphone hung on the wall. No one came here anymore, everyone carried their own phone and the bulb overhead had long since burned out.

It was very dark, but she was close and he could see the desire burning in her eyes. He turned her, pressing her up against the wall and she laughed in triumph, the sound cut short when he covered her mouth roughly with his own.

She moaned magnificently as he rutted against her, straining to get closer, to feel her heat through the layers of clothing.

“Do you want me, Phryne?” He whispered in her ear.

“Yes, Jack. I want you.”

Her hands worked quickly and surely to open his trousers. He was already desperate for her.

He hiked up her skirt and lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pushed in, one hand tangling up in her hair cradling her head, as he slammed her against the wall. Over and over.

A rush of blood hummed through his veins and buzzed in his head. This is what drowning felt like.

Jack awoke with a gasp, tangled in his sheets, his body soaked with sweat.

 _“Fuck!”_ He cried, burying his face in his pillow, swallowing the frustrated cry in the back of his throat. His phone was vibrating on the nightstand. He fumbled for it, jamming his finger on the screen to put it on speaker and flopped back onto the bed.

“Robinson!” he barked.

“Did I wake you? Sorry,” Collins said, pausing only a moment before continuing. “Just got the report back on those pills found in Wainscot’s room. They were fentanyl. So, either the bottle was mislabeled, or—”

“Or, there’s a good chance they were obtained illegally,” Jack finished the thought, sitting up in bed, rubbing his temples and trying to get his head in the game. “Useable fingerprints?”

“No.”

“We’re already looking into any prescriptions, right?”

“Yep. Got a list of doctors from the manager. The prescribing doctor's not on the list and Cummings says he was only aware of Wainscot using mild over-the-counter painkillers for an old back injury. Said Wainscot preferred wholistic remedies and meditation to manage his pain. Said he knew nothing about the pills.”

“Hmm. It wouldn’t be the first time someone lied to hide an opioid addiction.”

“You think Wainscot lied to his manager?”

“Or the manager is lying to us. Have you been able to reach the prescribing doctor?”

“Not yet. He’s a one man operation and his answering service says he’s away for awhile. Apparently on safari in the Northern Territory. Hunting buffalo.”

“And, I imagine an answering service didn’t have any information regarding the good doctor’s patients?”

“That’s correct. Do you want me to head to the chemists?”

“Not yet. We should probably get a warrant for their records first. I don’t want to give them time to hide anything. Start the paperwork. I’ll be in within the hour.”

Jack walked to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, remnants from the dream floated into his mind and he tried to shake them off.

His date the previous night had been something of a disaster. Not because he’d run into Phryne, but he may as well have, considering she’d been in his head all night. He’d barely said a word to Connie. Even when he tried to pay attention he found his mind wandering.

When he took her home he’d been surprised when she’d asked him in. He couldn’t imagine why. He’d been rudely inattentive and she couldn’t possibly have been having a good time.

It was clear to him that this thing with her wasn’t going to work. She was very nice, smart, and pretty, and at a different time, he could see himself liking her very much, but not now. He had to let her know. It wasn’t fair to her.

He told her he couldn’t come up, that he had to be at the station early with a new case, and was working his way to telling her he didn’t think they should see each other again, when she beat him to it.

It seemed his decline of her invitation had been the final straw. She’d told him he didn’t need to bother calling her again. That he was a nice man, but she just didn’t think they were going anywhere. He felt like a coward for leaving it to her, but maybe it was better that way. He couldn’t deny it was a relief to not have to worry about anymore.

The dream wasn’t anything to worry about either. He was almost getting used to them. They’d been less frequent as of late, but it wasn’t surprising that they might start up again. Last night’s was a new scenario, but not markedly different from previous dreams. He thought of it as a variation on a theme.

An hour later, after a shower and a cup of coffee, he was at his desk feeling more settled. He was wearing his blue wool suit. The one that he always felt especially confident in and usually saved for more important days.

It was somewhere between a cobalt and deep navy, and the fact that she’d once said it complimented his eyes had not factored into his choice this morning in the least. She’d already given her statement, so there was no reason he should see her today. Which was why he was somewhat flustered when her heard the familiar clip of her heels approaching. He steeled himself for whatever she had in store for him this time.

Uncharacteristically, she stopped in the doorway and rapped on the frame instead of barging in.

“Got a minute?” She asked, politely. He gestured to his guest chair and she took a seat, sitting up straight, rather than flopping back in her usual manner. She looked nervous. That pleased him in a perverse sort of way.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Did you remember something else? Benz already passed on the info about that friend.”

“It’s not about that,” she said. “Mac told me about Angela.”

“Ah,” he said, deflating slightly.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I wish I’d been here.”

“There was nothing you could have done for her.”

“I meant for you,” she said, softly. “You tried to call me, didn’t you? Did you hang up because you thought I wouldn’t answer? I would have.”

“Why?” he asked, “Why that time?”

He was proud of himself for not sounding as bitter as he thought he deserved to, but her slight flinch told him he’d touched a nerve nonetheless. He didn’t really want to hurt her, and it was petty of him to feel satisfaction in making her uncomfortable. It was over. He just wanted to move past it.

“I told you. That wasn’t about you, that was about me,” she said.

“Did you just use the _‘it’s not you, it’s me,’_ excuse, Fisher?” He said, smirking at her. He’d meant to sound playful, but she still looked like he had twisted the knife.

“Don’t mock me, Jack. I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I abandoned you.”

“Abandoned me? I’m not a puppy,” he said. Had he been that transparent? He’d hoped to do a better job of hiding how badly she’d gutted him. But then, she always saw though him. “Really, Phryne. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do. It was wrong of me. It’s not what friends do to each other. It was just all too much.”

“You could have talked to me about how you were feeling,” he said.

“I know, or I know that now. At the time...well, I handled it very badly and I really am sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing,” he said. “It’s so unlike you. It’s very confusing.”

He really wanted to get off this topic. It was painful. He’d already figured all this out. She’d gone away and realized that their involvement had been a mistake and hadn’t known how to tell him. It was a little pathetic that she now felt the need to comfort him, and embarrassing.

“You’re still mocking me,” she pouted.

“I’m not. I understand what you’re saying, Phryne, but you never owed me anything to begin with and you’ve already explained,” he said. He picked a folder up off the desk, trying to move on from this infernal rehashing of her disappearance from his life.

  
“Tell me what you know about Adrian Cummings.”

“I barely know the man, Jack!” she said, quickly.

“Calm down! It’s none of my business what you do in your private life. I’m only asking because I was wondering if you think he’s trustworthy,” he said. “He might be hiding things.”

“What kinds of things?” she said, leaning forward eagerly in her chair.

“I walked right into this, didn’t I?” he laughed. “I take back my question. You can’t help me this time.”

“Come on, Jack! You know I’m not involved in the death, but I was there that night and that could be helpful. Use me! Pick my brain. Maybe I saw something important but don’t realize it.”

He drummed his pen on the desktop, thinking. Just because things had changed between them didn’t mean she wasn’t still clever and observant and an asset in his work. He may as well use her for that.

“Alright, but this is strictly between us. Off the record. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely.”

“A bottle was found in Wainscot’s room. It was marked as hydrocodone, but tests proved the pills contained fentanyl. Cummings says Wainscot never took anything stronger than over the counter. We’ve yet to find a doctor that prescribed hydrocodone, fentanyl, or anything else to Wainscot.”

“I didn’t see any pills, but my impression of Kit was that he was committed to the whole clean living thing. However, he wouldn’t be the first person to become addicted to painkillers and try to hide that fact. Were the pills his?”

“They were prescribed to an Arthur Dent. It’s an alias Wainscot used on occasion.”

“Less conspicuous than Zaphod Beeblebrox, I suppose.”

“What?”

 _“Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy._  You really should expand your reading profile, Jack.”

“I know the reference, I’m just surprised you do. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a sci-fi aficionado.”

“Why? Do you think the only people reading sci-fi are smelly, teenaged boys hiding in their mother’s basement and playing video games with their other smelly little friends?”

“Of course I don’t think that!” He said, although his mind flashed back to his fifteen year old self doing exactly that, with his three best friends, while debating the merits of the new Star Wars film versus the old.

“Jane introduced me to _Hitchiker_. She finds it hilarious and I have to say, so do I,” Phryne said.

Jane was the daughter of Phryne’s next door neighbors in her high rise apartment building. She was thirteen, extremely bright, and all but ignored by her real estate mogul father and social climbing step-mother. Jane spent more of her time at Phryne’s apartment than her own.

Jack liked Jane very much, and he liked, even more, the way Phryne took her in and gave her the attention and affection she didn’t get at her father’s home. An image of Phryne laughing with Jane about hoopy froods and towels appeared in his mind.

“You said you thought Wainscot had kicked his drug habit?” He asked, trying to get back on topic.

“Seemed that way. He really looked good. Very...healthy,” she said.

He let out a derisive snort. “Do you have any basis for believing he was clean other than that you found him attractive?” He said, and immediately regretted his tone. His jealousy was not appealing, and he knew she thought the same from the way her lips pursed together in annoyance.

“I didn’t say I found him attractive. I said he looked healthy. He didn’t touch any alcohol. He was drinking something called matcha. It looked like swamp water. He wouldn’t let anyone smoke in the room and bored me to death with talk of his spiritual advisor and the benefits of wheat grass. I know that could all have been an act, but he seemed genuine.”

“And you’re a good judge of character,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said. “What if I paid a visit to Adrian Cummings? I could stop by to give my condolences and maybe try to steer the conversation to the drugs.”

“We don’t yet know the pills are what killed Wainscot. If that is the case, it’s only a crime if someone else gave them to him. If that someone is Adrian Cummings, I don’t want you anywhere near the man.”

“I can be discreet.”

“I know that. But he could be involved in the death and even if it was accidental, he could be dangerous if he thinks he’s been found out. I can’t have a civilian taking risks.”

“A civilian,” she repeated.

“You’re not a cop, Phryne.”

“I’m as good as any! Better than some!”

“I’m not disagreeing. I still don’t want you involved in this.”

She sat back, harrumphing grumpily, narrowing her eyes at him. He could almost see the moment she decided to change tack and embark on a different line of investigation.

“I hear I missed a good party at New Year’s,” she said. “Mac said she was glad you came.”

“It was nice of her to include me,” he said.

“Mac likes you, Jack,” she said. “And that’s quite a compliment.”

“I like her, too,” he said.

“You had a good time, then?”

“I did,” he said, looking up and meeting her eye.

“She said you met someone?” She held the eye contact.

“I did.”

“Someone named Connie.”

“Right again, Fisher.”

“What’s she like, Jack?”

“Why the interest?”

“Isn’t that what friends do? Show interest in each other’s lives?”

“I suppose, but there’s not much to tell,” he said.

“But, you like her?”

“Yes. She’s a kind woman.” He could have added that nothing had come of it because his head, and heart, were still too full of her, but that would probably only lead to more pity and apologies.

“That’s nice. I’m glad,” she said. Her foot began jiggling uncontrollably, she uncrossed her legs to set it firmly on the floor and folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly.

“Well. As much as I’d love to chat about my love life all day long, I am on the clock,” he said.

“Of course, I won’t keep you,” she said, rising to her feet. “Jack. Can we be friends again?”

“I didn’t realize we no longer were,” he said. It was a pretty transparent lie, brushing over all the awkwardness since her return.

“Come on, Jack,” she said. “You once said we should be honest with each other. I don’t think you’re being honest with me right now. Maybe I deserve that. I know I’m the one that broke that agreement by not being more honest with you, but you can’t tell me you aren’t at least a little angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, well, maybe I was. A little. I was confused and if you want honesty, I was disappointed and hurt, but it’s in the past now. Maybe our timing was just off. It happens. You don’t need to keep apologizing. And I am your friend, Phryne. I am always that.”

“And, I’m yours,” she said, fighting back tears. “Even if it might not always look that way.”

“There you go again,” he said smirking at her. “Please. Enough with the apologies. I’m alright.”

“Can we start fresh, then?”

“I’d like that.”

“You said we’d have drinks one of these days. To catch up,” she reminded him.

“I did say that. I hear it’s what friends do.”

“Then let’s make it soon. Or, will Connie have a problem with you seeing an old friend? I don’t want to make trouble for you there.”

“What? Oh, no. That won’t be a problem.”

“Good. Are you busy tonight?” She asked, hopefully.

“No, but—”

“Excellent,” she said, bouncing up on down on the balls of her feet. “Eight o’clock? McGlynn’s?”

“Uh...I’m not sure I can make it,” he said.

“Try. I’ll be there either way.”

She smiled. She was dazzling when she smiled like that.

“Alright. I’ll try,” he said, nodding his head.

* * *

 

 Jack stood outside the bar watching Phryne through the window for several minutes. She was chatting happily with the bartender who was clearly neglecting his other patrons. She had on a red dress and her hair was down. It cascaded over her shoulders.

She looked incredibly beautiful and comfortably familiar, and he wanted, more than anything, to go to her side, kiss her cheek in greeting and wipe that hopeful look off the barkeep’s face. He caught his own reflection in the window glass. “ _You’re fucked, mate,_ ” he said to himself.

* * *

 

Phryne had her phone sitting on the bar, checking the time every few minutes, despite the bartender’s attempts to hold her attention. The man was more annoying than was worth it, even if he had comped her drink. Couldn’t he tell she wasn’t interested? That she was waiting for someone else? Surely he’d noticed how often she glanced at the door?

Jack was late. Of course, he hadn’t actually said he’d come, but she’d been so sure he would. She’d spent far too much time deciding what to wear and had arrived ten minutes before the designated time just so she wouldn’t keep him waiting. She’d been nursing a glass of wine for half an hour now.

Finally, the phone vibrated against the wood surface and a message flashed up. She grabbed it up hopefully.

> _“I can’t. I need more time. Honest. I’m sorry.”_

She tossed back the glass, draining it, dropped some bills on the bar and left. Any hope she’d had that they could get back on track died a quick, painful death. She wasn’t going to get a second chance, and she couldn’t really blame him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dot and Jane welcome Phryne home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we all might need a break from the heavy angst! (so this is angst lite - didn't want to get your hopes up too much)
> 
> This is the first of two chapters posted today.

Dot let herself into the apartment at 9:00 a.m. The kettle had just reached its boil when Phryne shuffled in from her bedroom wearing a ratty, oversized flanno, faded leggings and furry slippers. She gave Dot a fierce, welcoming hug, then plopped herself down in a kitchen chair.

“Jet lag still got ya?” Dot asked. “That’s not like you.”

“Guess I’m getting old.”

Dot set a cup of tea in front of Phryne, along with a piece of the lamington she’d baked in celebration of her return.

“I got the confirmations the magazine asked for and then took the liberty of making the edits they requested,” she said, handing over several typed pages.

“You were supposed to be on holiday,” Phryne complained, feeling guilty that she hadn’t been able to get much done herself.

“I just made a few calls,” Dot said. “We were on a deadline!” She cried, defending herself from the look Phryne gave her.

Phryne read through the new pages quickly. “This is really good Dot. You’re a wonder.” She set the papers down, looking at Dot thoughtfully. “You know, you’re too good to be wasted strictly on research. I think you need to write a story of your own and I have just the one.”

“Oh—I don’t know. Do you think I’m ready?”

“You’re more than ready. I think you should write the Wainscot story. I know everyone’s going to be on it, but we have an inside track.”

“You mean Hugh?” Dot said, skeptically. “I don’t mind asking Hugh for information for your stories, but I’d be uncomfortable if I were asking for myself.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, if it’s for you, then I’m just doing my job, and he can always say no, but he might feel he can’t turn me down if it’s my story. I would feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“I see,” she said, picking at the baked good. “How long have you two been together now?”

“It’ll be a year soon,” Dot said happily. “Our first date was at the Fireman and Policeman’s Ball last February.”

“That’s right,” Phryne smiled.

That was shortly after she’d met Jack while chasing that story about young runaways being trapped into a life of prostitution. A few months later he’d told her that Hugh was trying to get up the courage to ask Dot out, and they’d worked behind the scenes to encourage things along.

At the time she’d been a little disappointed that Jack hadn’t seemed interested in asking her out. She’d flirted with him enough to let him know she’d be open to something, but then she’d learned that he lived with someone and it had made more sense. She’d dialed back the charm.

“We wouldn’t have to use Hugh if it makes you uncomfortable. There are other ways. Besides, when I said we might have an inside track I meant me.”

She explained how she’d come to be at the hotel and at the party that had preceded Kit Wainscot’s untimely death. To her credit, Dot didn’t raise an eyebrow at the news that Phryne had spent the night in Cummings’ hotel room, but then, maybe Hugh had already told her.

“Do you think it was an overdose?” Dot asked.

“I didn’t at first, but there were pills in the room, prescribed to an alias that Wainscot was known to use. The pills were mislabeled and contained a drug more lethal than the one indicated.”

“So, it’s possibly murder?” Dot said, her eyes going wide. “We need to find out where those pills came from  and how they came to be mislabeled.”

“Right. And maybe it will be better to keep Hugh and Jack out of it this time. If we can find the information before the police, we’ll have one hell of a story.”

“But, won’t they be doing the same things? Wouldn’t it be better to work with them like we usually do? I mean, if we come on to something that the police should know you’re not suggesting we keep it from them, are you?”

“No. Of course we’ll tell them, but anything we find first gives us leverage. So that they keep us in the loop on new developments.”

“Oh. But, they kind of do that already, don’t they?”

Phryne didn’t want to have to explain to Dot why Jack might not want to work as closely with them as he had in the past. She didn’t want to see the disappointment, or maybe even pity, in her friend’s eyes.

“Normally, yes, but this is a big story and they’ll have a lot of reporters bothering them. They may need more incentive this time.”

“That makes sense. You really think I should write the story?”

“I do.”

“But, who will publish it? No one knows who I am.”

“You’ve talked to most of the editors we work with. They all know you!”

“As your assistant.”

“Researcher, Dot,” Phryne corrected, “If the article is well researched and written, and it will be, there’ll be no problem. And, if I have to call in a favor or two to get someone to look at it, I will. Once they read it, they’ll see how good you are.”

“Where should we start?” Dot said enthusiastically. She pulled a clean notepad from her bag and sat down across from Phryne.

Dot had come a long way from the shy, night school journalism student that had come up to speak to Phryne after she’d given a talk at one of her classes.

Dot’s mother hadn’t approved of Dot going to school. It took her away from her work in the family bakery. Dot had been running herself ragged between night classes, waking each day 3:30 to start baking, and then manning the store counter during the day.

Phryne had seen potential in her, and had hired her as a researcher so she could concentrate on her studies. She offered flexible hours that allowed Dot to take day classes as well.

Dot had jumped at the chance, but her mother had kicked her out when Dot said she was leaving the bakery, so Phryne had offered her the spare room in her apartment.

Since then, Dot had become invaluable to her work and a good friend. Phryne had been sad when she got her degree and moved out to a place of her own, but they still saw each other almost daily.

“We need the name of that pharmacy,” Phryne said.

“Wasn’t it on the label?”

“I never saw the bottle.”

“But the police have. Can’t you ask Jack?”

“He’s got enough on his plate without me bugging him. And besides, he doesn’t really want me in this because I was at that party, so technically, I’m a witness.”

“Oh,” Dot said, looking a little suspicious. “Is that the real reason we need leverage, Phryne? Because Jack’s boxing you out of this one?”

“Maybe,” Phryne admitted. She was afraid this might turn Dot off of the story. That her loyalty to Hugh, who was steadfastly loyal to Jack, might be a barrier.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Dot said. “We should probably start with pharmacies close to the hotel.”

“How will you get around the privacy laws?” Phryne said, smiling. Dot was going to make one hell of a reporter.

“I’ll think of something. What’s the name I’m looking for?” Dot asked.

“Arthur Dent.”

Dot pulled on her jacket, then paused at the door. Looking at Phryne. Something was wrong. She didn’t have her usual sparkle. She hadn’t touched the lamington—a personal favorite—and she’d left her tea to sit until it had grown cold.

“Is everything alright with you? You don’t seem yourself today.”

“I’m fine.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Dot knew Jack was seeing someone. She probably knew a lot more about Jack then she should, but she couldn’t really fill Phryne in on any of it because that would mean betraying Hugh’s confidence.

Dot couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. She’d been sure that Phryne cared deeply for Jack. She’d been so happy those few weeks after they finally got together. Now, it seemed they were estranged, and according to Hugh it was Phryne’s doing, and Jack had been rather badly burnt.

“What would I want to talk about?” Phryne asked.

“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. I’ll let you know how I get on.”

“Great. I’m just going to give the article one last polish before sending it on its way. Thanks for all your hard work on it.”

Phryne was still sitting at the table, having accomplished nothing more than refilling her tea, but still not drinking it, when there was a quiet knock at the door, the handle turned and a small, dirty-blond head peered in.

“Jane!” Phryne exclaimed, jumping to her feet as the young girl burst through the door and threw herself into Phryne’s arms.

“You’re back!” Jane squealed in delight.

Jane glanced around the apartment as if looking for someone else.

“Is anyone else here?”

“You just missed Dot.”

“So, Jack’s not around?”

“No,” Phryne said, curiously. “Should he be?”

“Well, before you left, he seemed to be spending a lot of time here.”

“What?”

“Well, I just noticed that he seemed to be around a lot more than usual. And often in the early mornings. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t here now. I wouldn’t want to cramp your style or anything.”

“Cramp my style?”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s great that you two are finally doing it. It was about time. He’s so nice, and gorgeous too. I’ve always thought you were meant for each other.”

“I...you,” Phryne stammered, “aren’t you a little young to be talking like this?”

“I’m not a child. I’ll be fourteen in a couple of months,” Jane said.

“Oh, silly me. You’re practically grown,” Phryne said, going to the sink to dump out the cold tea. She’d had no idea Jane had noticed Jack’s more frequent visits.

“So, why isn’t he here? After being apart for so long, I’d have thought you two would be shagging twenty-four seven.”

“Jane! This conversation is entirely inappropriate,” Phryne said.

Jane sat down at the table and looked so critically at Phryne that she felt as though she was under a microscope. She fidgeted about the sink, rubbing the dishrag repeatedly over a counter that was already spotless.

“Something is wrong,” Jane said. “It’s nearly eleven in the morning, you’re dressed like you just rolled out of bed, Jack was apparently not in that bed, and you won’t look at me. What’s happened?”

“When did you become an amateur detective? Nobody likes a snoop, Jane.”

“Oh, that’s funny coming from you. Did you and Jack break up?”

“We didn’t break up. We were hardly together, and then I was away, and well, these things happen.”

“No! You’re perfect together! And he’s nuts about you. Why did you break up? What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because, he didn’t break up. He’s nuts about you,” she said, again.

“What do you know about any of this!” Phryne said, starting to sound a bit like a thirteen year old girl herself.

“Am I wrong?” Jane said, crossing her arms across her chest stubbornly. “If I’m wrong, I’m sorry. Did he break up with you, then?”

“Nobody broke up with anybody! We just lost touch while I was away, that’s all. It happens.”

“You lost touch? That’s lame, Phryne. And that doesn’t sound like Jack, I mean he’s...”

“Nuts about me. Yes. I heard you. Except. He’s not anymore.” She sat down heavily in the chair, suddenly desperate to unburden herself, even if it was to a child. “And you were right. It’s my fault. I messed it up.”

“What did you do? Did you cheat on him?”

“What? No. We weren’t even—it was nothing like that. I just stopped answering his calls, that’s all. I got busy and...”

“You ghosted him!?” Jane gasped.

“I what now?”

“That’s what it’s called. Becca Slader spent three days crying in the bathroom after Jonno Flatbush ghosted her.”

“What are you talking about? Who are these people?”

“Just some kids at my school,” Jane said, picking up the untouched lamington, and taking a big bite. “Everyone knew that Jonno and Becca were going out. For at least two months, which is ages. Then he just started ignoring her texts and wouldn’t talk to her at school. Like she didn’t even exist. I think that’s a really mean thing to do, but then, I’ve always thought Jonno was a jerk.”

She leveled her insightful green eyes accusingly at Phryne.

“Well, it was not my intention to ‘ghost’ or, whatever. I was busy, that’s all.”

“Lame,” was Jane’s only response. Phryne had to agree. After a moment of silence, Jane said, “You could tell him you’re sorry.”

“I did,” Phryne said, glumly. “What’s done is done. I don’t know why I’m even discussing this with you. You can’t possibly understand any of it. You’re thirteen!”

“I probably understand more than you. Have you ever even had a boyfriend before?”

“Jack was not my boyfriend!” Phryne said. “Have you?”

“No, but I’m in high school, so I might as well be an anthropologist specializing in human mating relations, and I’m not a snoop, I’m just a careful observer. For instance, I know you really liked him and you wanted him to be your boyfriend.”

“I have never wanted anyone to be my boyfriend,” Phryne argued.

“You wanted Jack to be,” Jane insisted, “and you probably got scared, and that’s why you blew it.”

“That cheek will get you in trouble one day, Jane.”

“You won’t find a better guy,” Jane said.

“I think maybe you’re the one that wants Jack for boyfriend,” Phryne said, like a petulant child.

“Well, he is pretty hot. Does he like younger girls?”

“Jane Ross!”

“Just fix it, Phryne. Because my bicycle dropped its chain and the gears got all screwed up. My dad said he’d take care of it, but he won’t, so I need Jack to put it back together.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The problem was, she didn’t think there was anything she could do. He’d said he needed time. She couldn’t keep forcing herself on him. She’d have to respect his wishes and wait until he was ready.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne stops moping around and decides to take action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of two chapters posted today.
> 
> There is a brief references to alcoholism and death in this chapter.
> 
> I've used a glossing over of a historical event involving the Indonesian Invasion of East Timor and the East Timor Independence vote as a part of Phryne's journalistic history. It's not meant to be an accurate retelling, or the circumstances even realistic—this is a fictional tale and it's really just a plot device. My apologies to any historians.

The problem was, Phryne wasn’t a patient person. She didn’t like waiting and she’d been sitting around, feeling sorry for herself long enough. She got the article off to the magazine and took a shower. Then she decided to pay a visit to Adrian Cummings. She knew Jack wouldn’t approve, but she’d told Dot she had an inside track, she’d might as well live up to her promise. Besides, Jack would have to talk to her if she uncovered something new.

Cummings was pleased to see Phryne again, but his mood changed when she turned the conversation to the investigation, telling him that she knew about the pills and implying she knew where they’d come from.

“If you’re thinking that I got them for Kit, you’re wrong. I only mentioned to Kit what was already common knowledge. Whatever he may have worked out with the man after that was his own doing,” he said.

“You may not have purchased the drugs, but you’re still mixed up in this. You really have to tell the police what you know, Adrian,” Phryne said.

“But, it will ruin Kit’s reputation and hurt sales! Part of his appeal is his story. His comeback sells. It’s a classic redemption tale.”

“But it’s not true. He didn’t beat the drugs, did he?”

“What does the truth matter? It’s all about the story. Not all of it’s a lie and he would’ve stayed clean if not for the pain. All those years on stage wrecked him. People don’t understand the physical toll the job takes.”

“Then that’s the story you tell. I could help you with that, but the police will find out on their own and the fact that you lied to them about the pills won’t go well for you.”

“No. I don’t know, for a fact, where the pills came from. I may have mentioned the concierge to Kit, but everyone knows that bloke can get you whatever you want. Kit didn’t need me for that. And we don’t even know it was the pills that killed him. It’s all speculation at this point and I don’t need to do that inspector’s job for him. I like you Phryne, but, if you start writing any unsubstantiated stories about how Kit died—well, I have a team of lawyers from the record label at my disposal, and I will use them.”

* * *

 

Phryne called Dot and asked her to pack an overnight case and bring it to her at the hotel. She’d booked herself a suite and done a little reconnaissance. The hotel employed two concierges, but one was a woman. The man Adrian had referred to wouldn’t be on duty until the evening.

In the meantime, Phryne made a trip to the bank to withdraw the cash she’d need to flash around. To pull this off she had to look the part of a wealthy ‘celebutante’ with too much time and money on her hands. A woman used to getting what she wanted and not inclined to take no for an answer. Should be a piece of cake.

This was the part of investigating a story she most enjoyed, and her adrenaline spiked as she paced her hotel room waiting for Dot. Even if it turned out the pills didn’t kill Kit, a drug ring run inside one of Melbourne’s premier hotels would be a huge story.

“I don’t like this,” Dot said. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble trying to buy illegal drugs. Maybe it’s time to bring the police in.”

“We need more information. Right now all I’ve got is a rumor about the concierge, and you haven’t had any luck with finding the chemist. This is our best lead. Besides, it won’t be the first time I’ve broken the law for a story.”

“Shouldn’t you at least run it by Jack? So he can back you up if you get into trouble?”

“What kind of trouble can I possibly get into?”

“You’re a recognizable person, Phryne. That concierge will be suspicious. If we have to do this, then let me be the one to approach him.”

“No way, Dot.”

“Why not? Because it’s dangerous? Then why would you do it?”

“It’s because I’m recognizable that it’s got to be me. He gets famous people asking him for things they want kept quiet all the time! It’s not like I’d be the type to buy drugs on a street corner. That’s the whole point.”

“But if he recognizes you, he’ll know you’re a reporter! Kit Wainscot is dead, and you’re messing around with the people that might be responsible for that. It’s reckless. We’re moving too fast on this. You could use an undercover cop. Wouldn’t that be better anyway? They could arrest the concierge as soon as money changes hands.”

“Will you stop worrying so much? I can handle this,” she said. “It’s not like I’m actually going to take the drugs. I’ll call you the minute I have them in my hands. And if the concierge gets suspicious or I think I’m in too deep, I’ll call Jack. I promise.”

She had no intention of calling Jack until she could hand him the drug ring on a silver platter.

“I’ll be waiting by the phone, and I want frequent updates,” Dot said.

Ray, the concierge, turned out to be a walk in the park, just as she'd thought. A little flirting, a little name dropping and the flash of a lot of cash had been all it took.

She was to put the agreed upon amount in an envelope marked for housekeeping, leave it on the dresser, and vacate the room for few hours. A fake prescription for oxycodone would be waiting when she returned.

When Ray asked who the prescription should be made out for, she’d given the name Tricia McMillan, aka Trillian. She thought Jack would appreciate her little joke.

She got the money ready, then set her motion activated recorder on the desk, making sure it was trained on the door. It was her favorite of all the spy gadgets she owned and incredibly useful. It looked like an ordinary pen, but it contained a hidden camera and could record up to eight hours of video footage. Secure that everything was in place, she headed out for the evening.

Not really having anywhere to go, and in no mood to socialize, she went back to her apartment for a few hours and decided to have a soak in the tub with a nice glass of wine.

She liked a good soak when she had something sticky she needed to work out. A bath required her to sit for an extended period of time, something she usually found difficult since she was by nature an active person. Her body was rarely quiet, her mind even less so.

Jack had an active mind too, though he carried himself with a stillness that belied that fact. He conveyed a confidence that was intimidating at times. She found that confidence, and his stillness, extremely attractive. It calmed her in a way that brought her thoughts into sharper focus at times when they threatened to spiral out of control.

She was always racing ahead, making herself work harder, be smarter and more capable than anyone else in a room. Part of that was just being a woman in a man’s world, but that’s not really what drove her.

She’d spent her early years in poverty. She’d watched her father drink and gamble away what little money he made on one crazy scheme after another, always promising the next one would take them to easy street, but never delivering. He was a bitter man, convinced the world had wronged him.

A stroke of luck—well, not for the relative that died in a skydiving accident, but for her father, who inherited the man’s money—had changed their fortunes.

She’d been sixteen when they’d risen from a hand to mouth existence, but it bothered her that her rescue had not come by virtue of her own merit, but just some fluke of relation. She’d been determined to prove herself ever since. She was already a good student, but this just pushed her to study harder.

Her father had said she wasn’t bright enough to amount to much and should just use her status and good looks to her advantage while she was still young. He gave her an allowance, but it wasn’t enough to pay for uni so she’d worked two jobs to find the rest of the money.

In her second year, he died. He’d never been able to break free of the alcohol addiction, despite his improved circumstances, and his liver had finally decided it had had enough. She tried to mourn, but found she had little love left for him. She was grateful, however, for the inheritance he left.

She’d been able to pay for school and had invested the rest well enough to live comfortably.

Her mother didn’t understand why she didn’t prefer to take advantage of her wealth and social standing to enjoy a life of leisure, but Phryne remained driven. She wanted to make her own way, prove her father wrong and be the success in life he never was.

She’d made a name for herself as a writer when, at the age of nineteen, she wrote a first person account of the violence that broke out in Dilli after the East Timorese independence referendum.

She’d traveled to Indonesia on holiday after finishing school, but her friends just wanted to lie on beaches and she got bored. She decided to take a side trip to Balibo.

As a student of journalism, she wanted to visit the site where the Balibo Five had been killed in the time leading up to the Indonesian invasion of East Timor. She saw where it had happened and the Australian flag they’d painted on their lodgings to identify themselves as Australians and journalist, thinking it would keep them safe.

It wasn’t until 2007 that a coroner’s report confirmed what many already believed; that they’d been deliberately killed by Indonesian Special Forces and not caught in cross-fire, which had been the official Indonesian version of events.

Since the timing of her visit coincided with the vote for independence, she decided to travel on to the nearby capital, Dilli, to observe the vote. She knew there were concerns about unrest, but she was young and convinced of her invincibility. Voting day was calm, but when the results were announced a few days later, all hell broke loose.

Phryne had made her way to UN compound along with a flood of other refugees, and her story of those weeks until they were evacuated to Darwin, won her a young journalist award and jumpstarted her career.

It had also set her on a path that allowed more freedom than she could have imagined.

At first she wrote whatever stories she could get her hands on, establishing a name for herself and a reputation for reliability. After awhile, she could afford to be picky. She didn’t need the money, and she was sought after. Her looks and personality got her gigs on TV too. She’d spun it all into a successful career as a freelance writer.

She loved the variety and excitement and took jobs that sent her to distant locales whenever possible.

About two years ago, she’d started to tire of her nomadic life, and returned to Melbourne. It was where she’d spent her childhood, her best friend Mac was here, and it was the only place that had ever, even remotely, felt like home.

Even so, she came and went as she pleased. She was determined to be independent. To never rely on anyone else for her happiness. She’d seen her mother throw her life away clinging to a failed marriage with a worthless man, all in the name of love. She’d listen to her cry at night over her father’s infidelities, then watch her take him back time and time again. It was humiliating, and Phryne decided she’d have none of it for herself.

She had her friends, who were like a family of her own choosing, but she was beholden to no one. She lived on her own terms. She’d never had, nor wanted, what one might call a boyfriend.

Men could be wonderful individually. There were many men among those she considered her friends, and plenty she’d slept with, but Jack was the first that had tempted her toward something ongoing. Something larger.

She’d never before started out as a friend and then made the move to lover, though she’d gone the other way more than once. She held out hope that she and Jack could be friends again one day. She was sure they could, eventually. What she wasn’t sure of, was if that would be enough.

They’d made the move to lovers surprisingly easily. It had taken long enough, to be sure, but once the step had been taken, it had felt right. It had felt wonderful, and maybe, if they’d had more time before she’d gone away, she’d have handled it better. Maybe she wouldn’t have fled in terror.

Because, now she knew that’s what she had done. She’d run away from him. She’d seen too much of her mother’s soppy adoration of her father in her feelings for Jack. The way she’d missed him had reminded her of how her mother would whine and moan whenever her father was away, as if she wasn’t a complete person without his presence. It was pathetic, and her father had not deserved such devotion.

But, the truth was, Jack was not her father. Jack was nothing like her father, and she wasn’t her mother. Whatever she and Jack could have had together, it never would have been the unbalanced, one sided relationship her parents shared.

The only thing her feelings for Jack actually had in common with her mother’s feelings for her father, was that neither of them wanted to be without the man they loved.

It was a hard reality to admit.

She loved Jack.

She’d known it the moment she’d opened that hotel room door and her heart had tried to flee her body to get to him. To get home, where it belonged.

She sank down under the water feeling completely miserable, letting her herself wallow in self-pity for a moment, and then rose from the depths and asked herself what she planned to do about it all. Was she just going to give up without a fight?

She was Phryne Fisher, damn it. She didn’t give up, and she got what she wanted, and she wanted Jack Robinson.

She’d behaved badly and maybe she didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but she knew he’d give it to her anyway. That’s who he was, and selfish as it might be, she planned to take advantage of his generous nature.

He had loved her once, of that she was sure. She saw it in his eyes still, in the moments he let slip his iron clad control. The love was still there. She just had to get around his hurt pride. She had to convince him she was worth another shot at this. That what they had was worth another shot. And this time, she wouldn’t fuck it up.

She got out of the tub and began formulating a plan, well, at least the start of a plan. She had to get him to actually agree to see her again before anything could really begin. The key to that was worming her way into his case. She was confident she was well on her way. All she had to do was get those pills and hand them, and the concierge, over to Jack.

He could hardly ignore that, and she could do it with the stipulation that he let her in on the Kit Wainscot case, seeing as the two were undoubtedly related. Once they were working together again, in close proximity, she was sure the rest would fall into place.

She hoped it would fall into place. It had to.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Life in Peril. Drug use.

Just as she was leaving for the hotel, her phone rang.

“It’s been hours. You promised you’d check in,” Dot said.

“Sorry mother,” Phryne said. “I’m just on my way back to the hotel. I was instructed to leave for a few hours. I think the pills will be delivered during the turn down service. That’d be the way to do it. No one looks twice at housekeeping entering a room.”

“Okay. Hugh’s here with me. Wait for us and we’ll go with you.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Don’t. And I don’t need you to come with me.”

“But, what if it’s a trap and someone is waiting in the room for you to come back?”

“Now you’re just sounding paranoid. Who would be waiting? It was dead simple. The concierge didn’t suspect a thing. If he did, he’d just have told me he couldn’t get the drugs, not plan some elaborate ambush. I’ll just go make sure the drugs were delivered and call you straight away. Don’t say a word to Hugh until you hear from me again.”

If this didn’t pan out, she didn’t want Jack to know about it.

“Alright. Call me right away,” Dot said. “And be careful.”

Phryne let herself into the hotel room a little before ten. The curtains were drawn, the lights dimmed and soft jazz played on the stereo. The bed’s fluffy doona was pulled back and a chocolate mint sat on the pillow. There was even a split of champagne was on ice in a stand by the bed. She plucked up the chocolate and popped the champagne, pouring herself a small glass.

She walked into the bath, past the oversized tub, thinking that this was a rather nice hotel, and if circumstances were different, Jack could’ve joined her here to take advantage of the already paid for room. But that would have to wait.

The pills were on the counter by the sink as promised. She toasted herself in the mirror, took a big gulp of the champagne, and pulled out her phone to text Dot.

_Got the pills. Call Jack. Meet me at the station. Bring computer and micro-card reader._

Dot’s reply was instant and it wasn’t until she was throwing her things into her overnight case that the slightly bitter taste registered on her tongue. She groped for her phone on the desk, knocking things about in her fumble to pick it up. Her vision had already begun to blur and she punched the code in wrong. She knew she had mere moments before losing consciousness and did the one thing she could think of to help them find her. Then the room went black.

* * *

 

“She should be here by now,” Dot said, sounding slightly frantic.

“I’m sure she’s just delayed,” Hugh said reassuringly. Dot looked at Jack, their eyes meeting in understanding.

“Do you have the room number?” He said.

“Even better. I have the second keycard. She gave it to me when I brought her bag.”

* * *

 

The room looked undisturbed. The curtains were closed, soft jazz played on the stereo and the lights were dimmed. Jack ran to check the bath. It was empty. There were a few items that looked either hastily tossed into her bag, or not yet unpacked. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It looked like the room had been turned down, but the guest hadn’t yet returned from her evening out.

Jack glanced around and spotted a champagne glass on the floor, half hidden under a chair. He picked it up, eyeing the open bottle in the ice bucket stand by the bed. She never could resist champagne.

“She’s been here since turndown,” he said.

Dot was running around the room like a chicken with her head cut off. “Where is it?” she mumbled.

“Where is what?”

“The camera! She told me to bring the micro-reader. That means she had the camera!”

“The pen one?” Jack asked.

“Yes. Most likely.”

He ran to the desk, what better place to hide a pen then in plain sight?

“It’s not here!”

Where was it? It had to be here and he had to find it. It was the only lead. He felt panic taking hold.

He couldn’t help thinking she was in grave danger. If she’d been here, had found the pills, and was planning to come to the station, then something or someone had prevented that. Even if she’d stumbled across another lead and decided to chase it down, she’d have let Dot know first. That left only one possibility. She’d not left the room of her own free will. They had to find her fast.

Hugh Collins was watching Dot and Jack, two of the most sensible people he knew, quickly losing their minds.

“Hey. Dotty,” Hugh said, talking hold of her arm and holding her still, “Jack. Both of you! Take it easy. We’ll find her. We’re going to get her back, but I need you here. Now.”

Jack nodded and took a deep breath.

“Wait!” Dot said, pulling her phone from her bag. “Find My Phone!”

“What?”

“I can tell where she is. She’d set her phone so that I can see her location. Give me a minute.”

Jack peered over her shoulder as a map appeared on the screen with a red dot indicating Phryne’s phone.

“She’s still here. In the hotel, or very near. At least her phone is,” Dot said.

It was something, but not much. There were a lot of rooms in a hotel to search. They needed to narrow it down.

The pen held the key. She’d had the foresight to bring it with her, she’d have used it wisely and set it up to catch anyone entering the room. Maybe she’d been lucky enough to get her kidnapper on camera. He checked sight lines. The desk was still the most logical location, but it wasn’t there.

 _What if there was a struggle?_ he thought. A struggle might have dislodged things from their original place. He got down on his hands and knees and spotted the pen under the desk, somewhat camouflaged because it was the same color as the carpet.

It took a minute to get the computer set up and connect the cords, but Dot was incredibly efficient and before long they were scrolling through the video at a stepped up speed. It began with a close up of Phryne, her hair swinging forward around her face as she peered into the lens, and Jack’s heart bled.

Her image on the screen walked out the door and the recorder had stopped until the door opened again. A woman in a housekeepers uniform entered, wheeling a small cart before her. She left the cart in front of the desk where it blocked the camera, so there was nothing more to see until she wheeled it back out again. Presumably she’d performed the turn-down service, and possibly delivered the drugs at that time, but there was no way to be sure.

There was another break and then Phryne returned. She’d changed into casual clothes and her hair was pulled back. She walked past the camera over to the bed, then into the bath, returning from there almost immediately. They watched her sending a text, probably the one to Dot, then she disappeared out of range of the camera.

Shortly after that the picture shook and blurred. When it cleared it was focused on Phryne’s legs, motionless on the floor. Dot gasped.

There was one last scene.

A pair of men’s dress shoes, on the small side, walked into the frame. The legs appeared and disappeared as the man moved around the room. Something struck Jack as wrong about the image.

“Those shoes are too nice for those pants,” he said.

The pants appeared wide, loose fitting, and made of some sort of dull grey cotton material. Not at all fitting with the wingtip dress shoes.

They watched as the grey trousers passed by one more time and then Phryne’s legs were pulled out of the frame as the man dragged her motionless body away.

Dot had tears streaming down her face, but was bravely holding it together. She knew falling apart now wouldn’t help them find Phryne.

“The hotel workman we passed in the hall on the way to the room!” Jack said. “He was wearing grey coveralls with the hotel emblem on the chest, and pushing a large laundry cart.”

Jack would bet anything there had been more than dirty linens in that cart. That was barely ten minutes ago.

* * *

Phryne came to, and choked on the gag in her mouth. Her ankles were tied to the legs of the chair she sat on, and her upper body was bound to the back. Her wrists were likewise tied to the arms of the chair, palms facing up. It was impossible to move or cry out.

She heard footsteps coming her way and feigned sleep. Peering through her lashes she recognized Ray, the concierge. He pulled a chair up in front of her, taking hold of her wrist. She jerked upright and tried to struggle out of his grasp.

“You’re awake,” he said, not sounding terribly surprised or concerned. “Sorry about this. It’s a shame, really,” he ran the back of his hand over her cheek, “but, you didn’t really leave much choice.”

She tried to talk through the gag, but could only make whimpering noises that sounded pathetic, as though she were begging for her life, which, she supposed, was exactly what she was doing.

He chatted amiably as he went about his work. He pushed her shirt sleeve up past her elbow.

“Please, don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to do it, but I have to. He warned me about you, but I thought he was overreacting. I knew you were that socialite reporter lady,” he said, the description making Phryne cringe, “but I get all kinds asking me for stuff, so I didn’t think twice.” He tied a band around her arm, just above her elbow. “Turns out he was right about you. I didn’t catch it, but my supplier noticed. Two aliases using characters from the same movie in one week? I don’t like the coincidence.”

“Is-a- ook,” she mumbled through her gag. She knew _Hitchhiker’s Guide_ had been made into a movie, but as a writer, it irked her when people didn’t acknowledge source material.

“What’s that? Never mind. Anyway, I had to admit the old guy is shrewder than he looks,” he said, chuckling a little. “Guess that’s why he’s the boss.”

She couldn’t believe something as stupid as the fake name she’d chosen to use would be the end of her. She’d been careless and cocky and too clever for her own good, but this was no time for self-pity.

If she could get him to remove the gag, she might be able to talk her way out of this, or at least buy enough time for her friends to find her. By now she must be late enough that Dot would know something was wrong and she’d be with Jack. Phryne was sure they wouldn’t stop until they found her. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too late. Ray took hold of her arm again, running his finger above the bend of her elbow, looking for a vein.

She tried to speak, but it was just noise, nothing intelligible. She feigned a coughing fit, hoping he’d take pity, but he just looked at her with dead eyes, and waited for her fit to subside.

“This will be easier if you’re calm,” he said, “but, the adrenaline might make the heroin work faster, so either way is fine with me.”

He plunged the syringe into the vial, filling it, then held it in the air, flicking his finger against the tube as she’d seen done in countless movies and TV shows. She wondered vaguely what purpose it served. Dispelling air bubbles, most likely. He pushed the plunger slowly until a drop of liquid dripped from the tip of the needle. How kind of him to take such precautions before administering what she assumed would be a lethal dose.

He took hold of her wrist, and looked at her again with cold, but slightly curious eyes.

“I’ve never actually done this before. I don’t think it will hurt,” he said. “It might even be pleasant.”

She resumed her struggle, but it was pretty ineffectual, and in the end she could only watch in horror as the needle pierced her skin.

Her last thought was of her friends. Her family really. Mac and Dot and Jane. And Jack. Especially Jack. He’d be so angry with her. She could almost hear him shouting.

* * *

 

She was on her back. An annoying wailing sound crept into her consciousness. She tried to open her eyes, but the lights were too bright, she squeezed them shut again and felt tears roll down her cheeks.

Her whole body ached. She was cold, but sweating. Trembling uncontrollably, and so frightened. There was something in the back of her mind, something her fuzzy brain couldn’t form a picture of, something she needed that was just beyond her grasp.

She struggled to reach out for it, and he was there. Taking hold of her hand in a warm and steady clasp. The picture in her brain came into sharp focus.

A calm came over her and she knew everything was going to be all right.


	9. Chapter 9

_In the dream, he holds the door as she steps into the lobby of her building._

_“Good evening, Ms. Fisher, Inspector. Did you have nice night?”_

_“Good evening, Tobias,” she says. “We did, thank you. You’re at the desk late tonight.”_

_“Just on my way out. Unless you need anything?”_

_“Not tonight, thank you,” she says gripping tight to Jack’s arm. “I have everything I need.”_

_“Good night then, miss.”_

_“He is an angel incarnate,” she says. “I swear he’s prescient. He knows what I need before I do. He’s come in very handy when a story has resulted in unwanted attention, and more than once he’s made himself useful in helping get rid of an over-ardent admirer.”_

_“Hmm, perhaps I’d better get on the man’s good side,” Jack says, dryly._

_She turns the key in the lock and the door swings open. Even in the dim evening light the place feels light and airy. She opens a bottle of wine and they take their glasses out onto the terrace, overlooking the bay. He wraps an arm around her waist. She leans back against his solid chest as they look out at the starry sky._

_She loves this apartment. She never thought she’d settle so completely anywhere but as soon as she saw it, she knew it had to be hers._

_She upgraded from her small studio to the fashionable high rise on Beaconsfield Parade a little over a year earlier. Her unit runs the entire length of the building giving her a bay view from the living room and city view from her bedroom. French oak flooring flows throughout, and she and Jack have discovered that the free standing tub in the bath is wide enough to fit them both quite comfortably, and deep enough to withstand some vigorous activity without sloshing water all over the floor._

_With three bedrooms it is more space than she needs, but she has a feeling she might be glad of the extra space soon. That is, if she can coax him out of that little bungalow of his._

_The scene shifts._

_They are in her bedroom, the city skyline sparkling through the window, the only light coming from the gas fireplace. She sits back on the bed watching him with hungry eyes as he undresses._

_She never tires of watching as his body is revealed to her. All sinewy muscle and smooth skin. She knows the story behind the small scar near his shoulder. Her hands can find the little mole on his hip in the dark. He is so beautiful._

_She removes her own clothes, pulling the dress over her head quickly so as not to have to take her eyes off him for more than a moment._

_Naked, he comes to stand before her, between her thighs. His hand caresses her cheek and he smiles at her, his eyes so full of love she thinks she might combust on the spot._

_She slides back onto the bed, and he prowls after her, pressing her into the mattress. His weight on her is welcome and comforting. He buries his head in her neck, inhaling deeply, his knee pressing between her thighs, nudging them apart so he can settle himself between them. He rocks against her._

_She moans, softly._

“Phryne. Phryne, are you alright? What do you need?”

Phryne awoke in a hospital bed. Machines tracking her vital signs chirped regularly. She was desperately thirsty and nauseous. There was a pitcher and cup on the table that extended across the bed. As she reached for it, someone was at her side immediately to help her, handing her the cup and steadying her shaking hand.

“You scared the hell out of us,” Dot said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Yes. Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

Phryne gulped at the water, and trying not to be obvious, looked around. No one else was there. She settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

“He stayed as long as he could,” Dot said, quietly. “He had to get back to the station, but he wouldn’t leave your side until he knew you were going to be okay. Even rode with you in the ambulance.”

Phryne nodded. A wave of nausea hit her and she grabbed for the little kidney shaped bowl vomiting up the water she’d just downed. Dot stood by patiently, rubbing her back, then took the little bowl without hesitation and went to empty it into the sink.

“They want to keep you a little longer. Then I can take you home and Mac’s going to come stay with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, trying to sit up straighter.

“It is. Mac insists. Don’t argue with her.”

Phryne nodded in understanding. “How’d you find me?”

“I could see you were still in the hotel by your phone’s location,” Dot said.

Phryne had hoped Dot would remember. She’d slipped her phone into the inside pocket of her jacket before passing out.

“After that, it was all Jack,” Dot continued. “He figured out that whoever took you had posed as part of the housekeeping staff, and got the manager to pull the videos from all the elevators. We found you in the basement, in an old storage room. Presumably he planned to return you to your room once...well, he was trying to make it look like an overdose.”

“Did he get away—the concierge?”

“No. That’s why Jack’s gone back to the station. To question the guy. I don’t envy that man. Jack is frightening when he’s angry, although, I think he was more scared. We all were. Don’t ever do anything like this again, Phryne. Please?”

* * *

 

 “Do you want me to run you a bath?” Mac asked.

“No, thanks. I don’t feel as bad as I’d expect to,” Phryne said.

“You were lucky there was Narcan in the bus and that they could administer it so quickly. It stopped the effects of the heroin. What the hell were you thinking, Phryne? You really scared us.”

“I didn’t know he was on to me.”

She started to cry. Big, wrenching sobs. She couldn’t seem to stop.

“It’s okay,” Mac said, handing her a box of tissues. “You’re still feeling some residual effects. Let it out.”

She sat down beside her, putting her arm around her and pulling her into her side until the tears subsided.

“Is Jack very angry with me?” Phryne asked, when she’d calmed down. As much as she loved Mac, part of her wanted Jack to be the one with her tonight.

“Angry? Shit, Phryne. The man was hardly holding it together. You really need to go easy on that guy. You’re going to kill him.”

“You make him sound so breakable,” she snapped.

“Do you have any idea what you put him through? What you put us through? All of us who love you? Of course you don’t. You were unconscious for the worst parts,” Mac said. Jack may not have been angry, but she sure as hell was.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really felt right since I got back. I’m either catatonic or blazing ahead without thinking it through. My head’s not on right. Dot tried to tell me to slow down and I wouldn’t listen. I don’t want to think about what might have happened if...I was so scared.”

“I know.”

Mac thought she understood better than Phryne what was going on. It was the rift with Jack that was keeping Phryne off balance. What Mac didn’t know was if it should be fixed. She knew they loved each other, but she wasn’t sure Phryne and Jack were really good for each other. They seemed a turbulent combination.

“Was it really that bad?” Phryne asked. “How is he?”

“Jack is tough,” Mac said, “He can handle a lot, but that man wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to you. If you play with him again, you will snap him in two.”

“I’m not playing.” Phryne flopped her head back against the cushion. “Oh, Mac. What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to thank your lucky stars you have friends that wouldn’t stop until they found you,” Mac said. “You’re going to promise me you’ll never do anything like that again, and then, you’re going to bed.”

“I love you, Mac.”

“I know, doll. Love you, too.”

* * *

 

They were sitting at her kitchen table accompanied by a palpable tension. He looked tired, and she could tell he’d been drinking last night. Heavily.

He’d clearly made the effort to tame his wavy hair, but there was at least a days growth of beard on his chin. He wore faded jeans. No suit. No tie. Just a casual linen sport coat over a rumpled shirt, open at the collar. He didn’t look sloppy, but nowhere near as put together as was usual for a work day.

She’d have thought it all incredibly sexy, in fact she did, but for the haunted look in his eyes.

“He was cutting you loose when we got there,” Jack said. “He’s claiming he found you like that and was trying to help you,”

“He knows I can refute that, doesn’t he?” She was incredulous.

“Yes, but it’s your word against his. He’s says you were still partly lucid when he found you and that you must be confused. He’s pointed the finger at Cummings and it’s not a bad strategy. We’ve found motive for Cummings to have wanted Wainscot dead. You were snooping around the story, and that gives him motive to want you out of the way as well.”

“Why would Adrian kill Kit?”

“Kit Wainscot was leaving the industry to become a farmer and Cummings was going to lose his cash cow. No pun intended.”

“A farmer?”

“Sustainable farming was just one part of it. He and that friend, Hamish McIntosh, were planning to build an entire compound. They were already negotiating on a large parcel of land in New South Wales. In addition to the farm they planned to have a yoga center and a holistic health clinic. It was to be some sort of retreat.”

“But, why kill him?”

“Wainscot was the only artist Cummings represents. Hamish McIntosh thought he was a leech. That he was too fond of hanging on Kit’s coattails, enjoying the lifestyle it offered him. He said he was pretty angry that Kit was quitting the scene." 

“And, he knew Kit was using to alleviate his back pain. He could’ve easily switched out the hydrocodone for the fentanyl. But, I don't see how killing Kit helps Cummings. He still loses everything."

"There is one more thing. The motive I find beats even hate for murder. Greed. Cummings thought he was to inherit the rights to Wainscot's music. What he didn't know is that Kit had changed his will to put everything in a trust for continued funding of his holistic retreat.”

"So, Cummings killed him for the money and now ends up with nothing. Seems fitting. What does Cummings say?”

“We don’t have him in custody. He fled. Probably after you talked to him yesterday. He won’t get far though. His passport has been flagged. But, if he did do it, and I think he did, we’ve no way to prove it and no way to say where he got the drugs. Not yet anyway. It's all hearsay.”

“I see. So, I tipped him off and scared him into running? Well done me. My testimony will help against the concierge though, won’t it?” She really hoped all of this had not been in vain.

“Maybe, but a good lawyer will raise doubt with the story he’s spinning. He was smart. He kept his face away from the cameras and you’re not a reliable witness, you were drugged.”

“But I wasn’t when I arranged to buy the drugs from him!”

“He says that never happened. We can’t find the bottle you say was in the bathroom.”

“I don’t _say_ it was there, Jack. It _was_ there! I had it!”

“I believe you. But with no physical evidence, it’s, once again, your word against his. We just don’t have anything really solid at the moment. Look, I don’t mean to rush you, but I should get back. If you could just sign that for me?”

“Sure,” Phryne said, signing the document before her. He’d come to her apartment to get her statement about the attempt on her life and she had been stalling, trying to find a way to keep him there longer.

“Ray mentioned a man he referred to as the boss. Any idea who that might be?” She asked.

“None.”

“He called him ‘old’ when he spoke of him. Do you think it could be Alistair Alric? It is his hotel, he must have known what was going on there, don’t you think?”

“He denies it.”

“I asked what you think.”

Jack shrugged, giving a non-committal tilt of his head. “He owns the hotel, but I suppose that doesn’t mean he knows everything that goes on there,” he said.

“You don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what I can prove that counts. And don’t you get any ideas about sniffing around him. If he’s in on any of this—well, your interference has already proved costly,” he said, standing and taking his mug to the sink. “I really do need to get back to the station.”

His posture was tense. Mac had been right. He looked ready to snap.

“Thanks for coming here. I wasn’t really up to going out just yet. Still a bit shaky,” she said, then regretted saying it when she saw the way his jaw clenched.

“But, you’re feeling better?”

“I am. Really, Jack. I’m fine.”

He nodded, setting his rinsed cup on the counter.

“Why didn’t you come to me with what you’d found out about Grimes?” he asked quietly, staring down at the sink with his back to her.

“Who?”

“Ray Grimes. The concierge. The man that almost killed you,” he said. His voice hard.

“Oh. Of course.”

She realized she hadn’t even known the guy’s last name. She’d moved too fast on too little information and she hadn’t gone to Jack because she was hoping to impress him by solving his case. Right now she didn’t think telling him that would score her any points.

“I guess it didn’t occur to me,” she said.

He turned to face her.

“It didn’t occur to you?” he repeated, his voice breaking in betrayal of the calm exterior he was trying to maintain. “You had information pertinent to an important investigation and it didn’t occur to you to let the investigating officer know?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mess up your case.”

“Fuck the case,” he said, agitated. “You went of half-cocked and risked your life, without so much as a head’s up to me. You’re _life,_ Phryne! Why on earth wouldn’t you talk to me before putting yourself in that kind of danger?”

“I didn’t know—”

“Is this what we’ve come to?” he interjected. “You didn’t even want to work with me? Why did you cut me out? What did I do, Phryne?” He cried, not even trying to hide his anguish anymore.

“Nothing! It’s not you. I just—”

“You could’ve died! You would have, if we hadn’t found you in time.”

“I know, but you did find me, and I didn’t die.”

“I didn’t know that. You looked—”

He couldn’t shake the memory of the moment she’d stopped breathing as he carried her out to meet the ambulance. He’d felt her last shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, meekly. The pain in his eyes was almost too much for her to bear.

All she was doing these days was apologizing to him, but she didn’t know what else to say. And, she was sorry. For so many things. She tried to imagine what it would’ve been like for her had their places been switched, if she’d been the one to find him like that.

“I’m sorry I put you through that. I’ll never forgive myself. But, I’m so grateful you found me, Jack.”

“I don’t want your gratitude.”

He looked exhausted and defeated and sadder than she’d ever seen him.

“Jack,” she said, rising and going to him. She wanted to take him into her arms and feel his arms around her. She wanted to hold him close and never let him go again. He held up his hands to stop her and backed away toward the door.

“I don’t want your pity either,” he said, sharply. “Look. I know this is over. Whatever it is we had—for a minute—I get that it’s over. I thought we could still be friends and work together eventually, but apparently you don’t even trust me that far. It’s fine. You’ve got Mac and Hugh to get you information. You don’t need me.”

“I do,” she said, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

“You’re too reckless, Phryne. Too impulsive. I won’t ask you not to be. I’d be wasting my breath. It’s who you are, and you wouldn’t do it anyway. But, I can’t be around that anymore. I can’t keep losing you.”

It felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her and the walls were closing in.

“What are you saying?”

He inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose When he raised his head again, and looked her in the eye, his face was an impassive mask.

“Jack?”

He picked up her statement from the table.

“We’ll still have to see each other. You’re a witness—and now a victim—in my investigation, so there’s no way around that. But after that. When this case is done. I need to be away from you.”

“For how long?”

It was almost imperceptible, the little shake of his head that informed her there was no expiration date to this banishment, and then he was gone.

She stared at the door for awhile, then numbly walked to the table, picked up the mug and threw it across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put up two chapters today because it's Friday and because I didn't want to leave it hanging like this.


	10. Chapter 10

“Good morning, Ms. Fisher, Tobias Butler here,” the voice over the intercom said.

“Tobais, for the hundredth time, call me Phryne. What can I do for you this morning?” she said, cheerfully

“Miss Ross is here in the lobby and she’d like to speak with you.”

“Oh? Put her on. Thank you.”

“Hi, Phryne, Jack’s out front,” Jane whispered.

“What?”

“The chain fell off my bike again. I don’t know why that keeps happening.”

“Did you call him, again? Jane, you can’t fix it!”

“I know. That’s why I needed, Jack,” she replied, cheekily. “Look, he’s out there all alone in the hot sun. I told him I’m heading upstairs to get him a lemonade. It could take me awhile. Just FYI.”

“Jane,” Phryne began, but the girl had already gone.

Phryne had seen Jack several times in the six weeks since that morning in her kitchen. In fact she’d taken every opportunity possible to be near him. It was mostly case related and she kept things friendly, maintaining a respectable amount of space between them. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again, but it had proved impossible to stay away from him entirely.

Relations were thawing, but she’d given up hope for a forecast of spring any time soon, and she worried the longer it took the deeper he’d get in with the other woman. She never asked him about that, but any time she tried to extend an invitation he said he had plans, and she assumed that Connie was part of those plans.

One time, she’d even been tempted to follow him as he left work, but came to her senses. That really would’ve been beneath her.

Jane’s interference was silly too. It was sweet of the girl, but really, it was going to take more than a conversation over a broken bicycle to fix this. Still...

She checked her reflection in the hall mirror, then retrieved her shopping bag from the cupboard. She needed to pop down to the corner store sometime today anyway. Why not now?

* * *

“So, how’s the patient? Will she ride again?” She asked, looking down at him.

He sat cross-legged on the ground in a T-shirt and jeans. He was fiddling with the bike chain and there was a small smear of grease on his forehead, probably left there when he’d tried to push the hair out of his eyes. He looked up and gave her a smile.

“Better than ever,” he said, getting to his feet and wiping his hands on his trousers. “And this time the repair should hold, as long as she treats it gently.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger.” She reached up and cleaned the mark from his face. He didn't pull away and her fingers tingled from the brief contact.

“She’s persuasive, that one. And persistent. A combination I apparently can’t resist,” he said.

Their eyes met for a moment and held before he looked away. It set Phryne’s heart racing, leaving her a little flustered.

“Well, it’s nice of you to do this for Jane.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“She is. So, it was the fentanyl that killed Kit after all. No surprise there,” Phryne said.

“Did Mac get you the report?”

She’d asked Jack for a copy, for the story she and Dot were working on. He’d sent the request on to Mac rather than deliver it himself.

“Yes, thanks. I also saw the press conference. You did a nice job.”

He’d worn his blue suit on TV. The one she thought brought out his eyes. She found herself looking only at him as he stood behind Commissioner Johnston while the man announced the medical examiners findings. When a reporter asked a question pertaining to the investigation, the commissioner called Jack to the microphone and the sound of his voice was like a knife to her heart.

“Thanks,” he said. “Those things aren’t really my cup of tea.”

“Then you shouldn’t do such a good job of it. You just wait. You’ll be getting calls to be appear on the news to discuss the case. Stations will fight to hire you as a special police correspondent.”

He blushed, looking down at the bike and fiddling with something.

“Oh my god. You’ve already got offers, haven’t you?” She barked out a happy laugh.

“Nice to know I might have a second career to fall back on,” he said, laughing with her. “In case this police thing doesn’t pan out.”

“Not much need for that now though, is there? The commissioner looked pretty happy with your work.”

“Yes, well, with Cummings confession and Grimes' overdose, the whole thing wrapped up neatly without much stain on any of his powerful friends,” he said, his tone suddenly sour.

“Did you ever find out how Grimes got the drugs in lock up?”

“No,” he said. She got the feeling there was something he wasn’t saying, but she didn’t dig.

She thought about letting him in on what she’d been up to, but he was in such a good mood. Teasing, and if she wasn’t mistaken, even flirting with her a tiny bit. She didn’t want to spoil it.

“If you’re free tonight, Mac and I are meeting for drinks. I know she’d love it if you’d join us.”

 _Sure, Phryne,_ she thought, _Mac is the one that would love it, he’ll believe that._

“Don’t think I can make it tonight, thanks.”

“Hot date?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay. Maybe another time?”

“Maybe,” he nodded.

She couldn’t help but feel they’d been here before. It was like walking on a treadmill. It felt like you were moving, it might even be doing you good, but you never really got anywhere.

* * *

 

“I saw Jack for a minute this morning. I invited him to join us, but he had other plans.”

“Mmm,” Mac mumbled, acknowledging she’d heard Phryne speak, but offering no comment.

“So, do you know how things are going with Connie? Is he still seeing her?”

“For fuck sake, Phryne. How long is this going to go on? I’m not talking about Jack anymore. Either tell him how you feel, or move on.”

“I—”

“Those are really your only two choices, doll.”

“Things are better between us. At least he’s talking to me, but what if he doesn’t want me anymore. What if he won’t give me another chance?”

“I don’t think waiting longer to find out will make that any easier, do you?”

Phryne took a sip of her drink and set the glass down, sighing morosely.

“Come on,” Mac said, “it’s the first night out I’ve had in awhile, let’s at least try to have a good time?”

Several hours later, Mac had reason to regret her choice of words. Phryne had taken them a little too much to heart. There was no question of Phryne driving herself home, so Mac took her to her own home, which was within walking distance, and poured her onto the couch.

She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, returning to find Claire standing in the sitting room in her pajamas.

“I’m sorry, did we wake you?” Mac asked, giving her a kiss in greeting.

“No. I haven't been home that long myself,” Claire said. “Hi, Phryne.”

“Hey, Claire. Sorry we disturbed you.” Phryne leaned back against the throw pillows, looking over at the two women. “You two are so lovely together,” she said, slurring slightly, “You’re lucky, Mac.”

“Yes I am,” Mac agreed, sharing a bemused grin with her partner.

“How much has she had to drink?” Claire whispered. Mac silently mouthed, ‘a lot’ in return.

“Jack is lovely too,” Phryne said. “Mac? Don’tcha think Jack’s lovely?”

“Drink this,” Mac said, handing her the water.

“Claire, isn’t Jack lovely?”

“Yes, dear. He’s lovely,” Claire said, sitting down at Phryne’s side and patting her knee.

“Don’t encourage her,” Mac said. Claire rolled her eyes.

“Why not? They’re no good to anyone else this way. Poor Connie. She had such high hopes for that one. She’s convinced herself that he’s the coldest of fish. I didn’t have the heart to tell her he’s just hung up on someone else.”

“Wait,” Phryne said, “Aren’t they together anymore?”

“That ended a long time ago. It never really got started. They only went out a few times,” Claire said, she looked at Mac. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Not my place to,” she shrugged. “I decided awhile ago to stay out of this.”

Claire rolled her eyes, again.

Phryne leaned her head on Claire’s shoulder. “Did you see him on TV? He’s got the most beautiful voice,” she sighed, “it’s so rumbly. It makes me feel all—”

“Rumbly inside?” offered Claire.

“It does things to me, Claire,” Phryne said, seriously. “If you know what I mean.”

“I do, Phryne,” Claire said, laughing.

I should call him,” Phryne said, fumbling in her pocket for her phone.

“That’s a good idea,” Claire agreed, pulling the phone from her grasp and handing it over to Mac. “But, not right now. It’s late. You don’t want to wake him.”

“Ooooh, but that’s the best time, when he’s all sleepy and— gawd, I miss him.”

“I know you do, sweetie. Why don’t you go wash up now and we’ll make up the couch for you. You’re staying here tonight.”

In the morning, Phryne sat at Mac’s kitchen table and accepted a glass of water, a headache tablet and cup of tea and toast, waving away the offered eggs.

“Have you seen my phone?” she asked. “I can’t find it.”

“It’s right here, ” Mac retrieved it from the top of the refrigerator. Phryne gave her a curious look. “You wanted to make an ill advised call,” Mac explained.

“Ugh,” Phryne groaned. “I made an idiot of myself last night. I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were an adorable drunk,” Claire said, as she joined them, “and, I do I think you should call Jack. Just not in that state.”

“What would I say?”

“You could tell him you miss him. And that his voice makes you hot.”

“Oh, lord. Did I say that?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“When did I become a tired cliche?” she said, looking across the table at the couple.

She’d been surprised when she’d first met Claire. She was a sous chef at a popular restaurant, divorced, with shared custody of a child. She worked crazy hours, her relationship with her ex was contentious. Her life was complicated and messy and Phryne hadn’t thought that would be something Mac would want to step into, but they were very happy together.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How do you make room for each other.”

Mac and Claire exchanged a look.

“You just do,” Mac said. “Either you want someone in your life or you don’t. If you do, you make room.”

“I missed him so much when I went away. At first staying in touch helped, but after awhile, it got to be too much.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

“I didn’t like feeling that way. I didn’t like the space he took up. I thought if I didn’t hear from him it would be easier not to think about him. You know, out of sight, out of mind.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Claire countered.

“Now you tell me!” Phryne laughed. “The thing is, that space he took up is still there, but now it’s just a great, gaping hole.”

Mac was quiet and looking far too contemplative for Phryne’s liking.

“What? What are you thinking?” Phryne asked her.

“I’m thinking that expecting someone to fill a ‘great, gaping hole’ is asking an awful lot.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just miss him. I like my life better when he’s in it. I can live without him. I am living without him, but it’s not the same.”

“But, Phryne, you can’t just want him when you want him and expect him to disappear when you don’t.”

“That’s not very flattering! Am I really that selfish?”

“No, you’re not selfish, but you do like things your own way. On your terms. That’s not how relationships work.”

“You see, there’s my problem. I don’t know how relationships work! I’ve never really had one.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Mac said. “You keep using that excuse. You have plenty of relationships.”

“I’ve slept with my share of men, but I’ve never had a real relationship,” Phryne argued.

“I think what Mac is saying is that there are plenty of people you love, Phryne. You’re a fiercely loyal friend and a good one. If you weren’t Mac wouldn’t keep you around. I’ve seen what you’ve done for Dot and Jane. You make room for people all the time. When it’s important to you, you make room. You make sacrifices and compromise. Even I’ve seen it, and I haven’t even known you that long.”

“But, that’s different.”

“It’s really not,” Claire said. “Do you love Jack?”

“Desperately.”

“Then tell him.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne makes her move, but are she and Jack too out of sync?

“Did you see this?” Hugh said, bursting with pride. He tossed the magazine on Jack’s desk. “Dotty’s first byline. You can keep that copy. I have a dozen.”

“I actually picked up my own this morning,” Jack laughed. “It’s a good article. Tell her for me.”

“You can tell her yourself. You’re coming tonight, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“So, you’re okay that Phryne’s the one throwing the party?”

“I’m sure she’ll do a much better job than I would have,” Jack said.

“What? No, I’m sure you’d have done a great job,” Hugh floundered.

“It was a joke, Collins,” Jack said. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Phryne and I are ancient history.”

“Are you?”

“Ancient enough. Really, Hugh. It’s fine.”

Jack wondered if he kept repeating how fine it all was, if it actually would be. He didn’t think Hugh was convinced by all his protesting.

There’d been one night, not that long ago, when he and Hugh had gone for a drink. He had gotten a little drunk and perhaps said some things he shouldn’t have, but, Hugh was a friend as well as a colleague. If you couldn’t get a little sloppy over the girl you lost in front of your mates, where could you?

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Hugh said. “I wanted to ask you—will you stand up with me? Will you be the best man?”

“Yeah?” Jack said, surprised, but flattered and pleased.

“Yeah,” Hugh laughed.

“I’d be honored, Hugh.”

“Good. Cheers, mate.”

“I guess you’ll be expecting a send-off? I’ll get to test my party planning skills after all.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do. Everyone will be very disappointed if I don’t. But, considering my position, we’ll have to keep it clean, so maybe they’ll be disappointed in the end anyway.”

“No. It’s the perfect excuse. I don’t want anything crazy. Oh, and, um, well, Dotty’s asked Phryne to stand up with her, so, there’s that.”

“I did assume she’d be at the wedding, Hugh,” Jack said.

“Right.”

“Phryne and I get along fine, Hugh.” There was that word again. “Really. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Right. See you tonight then?”

“It’s ten in the morning. You planning to take the rest of the day off?”

“Uh, no. So, see you around, I guess?”

“Get to work, Collins.”

“Right, boss.”

* * *

 

She saw him as soon as he arrived but was at that moment cornered by Hugh’s mother who was terribly concerned about her cousin’s daughter who didn’t drink alcohol and was on a strict ‘no carb’ diet.

“Dot had informed me of all concerns,” Phryne assured her. “There is plenty of fruit and salad and we have several non-alcoholic beverage choices.

“What about the rolls?”

“Well, I thought she might just avoid those. She can have the tenderloin or chicken without the roll,” Phryne suggested patiently, glancing past the woman to watch Hugh and Dot greet Jack warmly.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Collins frowned. “Well, I do hope there will be enough for the poor girl to eat.”

 _The ‘poor girl’ is in her thirties and she won’t starve_ , Phryne thought.

Dot came over then, linking an arm through hers.

“Excuse us, Mrs. Collins, I’m afraid I need to borrow Phryne for a minute.”

“Thank you,” Phryne said, once Dot had dragged her away. “Are you still calling her Mrs. Collins? I’d have thought after the engagement, she’d warm up a bit.”

Dot smiled. It was more of a grimace really. “She’s put out because Hugh told her I’d be keeping my name.”

“Oh, good lord. And, your own mum? She never R.S.V.P’d.”

“Not coming.”

“I’m sorry, Dot.” Phryne found it hard to believe anyone could hold such a steady grudge against her own daughter.

“It’s okay. So many other people turned out. Thank you for doing this, Phryne. We really appreciate it, and everything is just beautiful.”

“My pleasure, Dot.”

Dot and Hugh were planning a fairly simple wedding so Phryne had pulled out the stops for the engagement party. She’d reserved the rooftop patio of a popular restaurant down the block from her apartment. It was a wonderful setting, with incredible views.

There was a large covered bar area and around the perimeter were cozy alcoves containing upholstered banquettes, each with a surrounding hedge that gave them a very intimate and private feel. In the middle of it all was a large stone fireplace which would be perfect for later, when the evening air cooled.

Each table had its own, all white, floral arrangement on the table, and the delicate scent of Jasmine wafted through the air. Twinkle lights were strung everywhere to add to the ambiance and a DJ was playing all of Dot and Hugh’s favorites. She even had a special event planned for the end the evening.

A couple of young women hurried over, squealing with excitement, hugging Dot and oohing and aahing over the ring.

“You’ve got yourself a really great guy, Dot,” one of the women said. “Hugh is a sweetie. I’m so happy for you.”

“Tell me there will be single men at the wedding, and that he is one of them,” the other said, pointing at Jack.

“You mean, Inspector Robinson?” Dot asked, with a glance at Phryne.

“If that’s the gorgeous guy, with the fantastic ass, talking to Hugh right now, then yes, that’s who I mean. Is he single?”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t tell me he’s gay. That’d be just my luck.”

“No. But, well—he’s Hugh’s boss, that’s all.”

“Even better! Make sure to seat him by me at the single’s table, okay? Oh, look. There’s Susan.” She grabbed Dot’s hand tugging her away. “Susan! You’ve got to check out this ring!”

 

* * *

 

The heart was a resilient muscle, Jack realized, as he found himself, once again, watching Phryne. He’d tried to maintain his self-imposed exile, but it hadn’t really held.

First, there was the case. She was inextricably linked to it and his job had required that he overcome his discomfort. Then, well, they’d just become too entangled in each other’s lives for a complete severance of ties.

In all honesty, it wasn’t such a terrible thing. It might not be all he had once hoped it could be, but lately, it had started to feel like old times. Like it had when they’d been friends. Before it had all gone to hell.

And, he had to admit—while contemplating a second run at the excellent buffet table—being friends with Phryne Fisher had its perks.

The only thing he needed to work on was the longing. She wasn’t make that easy tonight. He was having trouble taking his eyes off of her.

She had on a simple black dress. It wasn’t overly provocative or splashy, but she looked stunning. It had a high neckline and ended demurely above the knee. An unexpected flash of skin came courtesy of a slash like cut-out at her shoulder.

It wasn’t fair that such a little peek of her porcelain skin should so thoroughly drive a man to distraction.

Her hair was down, falling in loose waves. When she’d throw her head back and laugh in that infectious way of hers, it filled him with joy. He loved watching her, especially when she was happy, and it was a mostly harmless indulgence.

She was the consummate host. It was clear that she made whomever she was talking to feel important, welcome and like they were the only thing that mattered to her in that moment. He’d also seen her dealing with Hugh’s mother more than once. Her patience and graciousness were impressive.

His time with her sometimes felt like a dream. Something that couldn’t possibly have been real. How had he ever thought he might hold her for more than a brief moment? She’d never been meant to be tied down by someone like him, but the pain of that realization was lessening as the days went by.

She caught him looking and smiled.

* * *

 

Phryne had been keeping an eye on Jack hoping to find a minute to speak to him alone. But, each time he had been on his own, she’d been occupied with one stupid party detail or another. Finally she saw her chance. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel, watching the crowd and she caught his eye. She grabbed a couple bottles of his favorite beer and went over.

“You looked dry,” she said.

“Cheers,” he replied, taking the offered bottle and tapping it against hers. “Fantastic party. You’ve outdone yourself, Phryne.”

“Thanks. Nothing’s too good for Dot and Hugh.”

He nodded in agreement and took a long pull from the bottle. She took a delicate sip from hers. She was determined to keep her head tonight. They stood, side by side in awkward silence.

“So—”

“Are you—”

“I—”

Their words tripped over each other. He grinned bashfully, nodding for her to go first.

“I was hoping we might be able to talk,” she said.

“I’ve seen little evidence of it so far,” he laughed, “We’re usually much better at this. Maybe we’re out of practice.”

“Yes. Practice helps,” she said, earnestly. “It’s easy to make mistakes when you’re doing something you’ve never done before.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he said, tilting his head in confusion. He always reminded her of a curious puppy when he did that. It was an endearing trait and only proved to fluster her further.

“It is,” she said, nodding solemnly. “Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of something big, you know?” she said. “Something life changing, and you’ve never been there before, and you feel like you’re in over your head, so you do whatever you think you need to do to stop drowning.”

“Drowning?” he said.

“Yes, but then, by trying to save yourself you just make everything worse and you realize it wasn’t the ‘thing’ that was making you so miserable, it was the lack of that ‘thing’, but it’s too late now, because you’ve messed it all up and lost the thing you just realized you need.”

She was talking incredibly fast and not saying anything she’d initially planned to say. In fact the whole speech she’d carefully crafted in her head had gone completely out the window.

“I’m afraid I’m not following you,” he said.

She was making a horrible mash of this. She used to resent the way he walked in and out her head like he owned the place, but now, when she needed him to understand, she couldn’t make herself clear.

“Jack,” she said, taking a deep breath and trying to organize her thoughts. “I know I hurt you terribly.”

“Please don’t,” he said, bristling. “We’ve been through this. It’s in the past. Can we leave it there?”

“But, you never let me explain.”

“What’s to explain?”

“If you’d let me speak, I could explain that.”

“You could explain what there is to explain?”

“I’d like to try.”

“Phryne, you’re killing me here. I don’t understand what you want from me. You made it clear you didn’t want to continue a romantic relationship. You made it clear you don’t need me in other aspects of your life either. I’ll admit, I took it hard, but I thought we’d got past all that. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but it’s not the same.”

“Maybe not, but that’s the risk we took, isn’t it?” he was starting to lose his cool. “You knew how I felt. You can’t expect me to just get over it because you want me to. I’m sorry if I’m not the friend you want me to be. For christ sake, Phryne. Give me a break here!”

She saw Hugh’s mother approaching and grabbed hold of Jack’s arm, pulling them away from the crowd and into one of the little alcoves.

“I’m not doing this right at all,” she said. “This is what I meant when I said practice might have helped!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Phryne.”

“I’m talking about you and me. About us. I’d never fallen in love like that before. It wasn’t something I knew how to do. I wasn’t ready for it and I messed it up and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that before,” he said, coldly. “Well, not the part about falling in love. That’s nice to hear—I guess—but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with the information. Maybe I can feel good about having done the next guy a favor by providing you the practice.”

“What?”

“Maybe the next guy will be luckier,” he said, stiffly.

“What?” she said, again. She really didn’t like the way he was looking at her.

“Listen, I don’t want to be a jerk here, but I can’t really be the guy who helps you figure all this out, okay? And, you don’t have to keep apologizing to me. In fact, I wish you wouldn’t. What’s done is done. Our timing was off. It happens. Next time you’ll be ready.”

“No. I won’t.” She was finding it hard to breathe. “There won’t be a next time for the same reason there wasn't a time before. It was always going to be you,” she said, that last bit coming out a little strangled, because she’d started to cry.

“Aw, Phryne, don’t,” he pleaded. She didn’t know if he was asking her to stop talking, or not to cry. It hardly mattered. She wasn’t going to be able to accommodate him either way.

He handed her handkerchief from his pocket. Standing awkwardly at her side, waiting for her to compose herself. He patted her lightly on the back but didn’t let his hand linger.

“Who has these anymore?” she asked, dabbing at her eyes.

“Granddad said a gentleman should always carry one.”

“To gallantly offer to weepy women?”

“When needed,” he said.

“And the monogram?” She asked, examining the delicate stitching on the handkerchief just before blowing her nose loudly into it. His lips twitched up at the corners.

“That was Grandma,” he answered. “You can keep that one, by the way.”

“I’ll wash it for you, you big baby. It’s what they’re for, isn’t it,” she said. "I must look a mess.” She felt like such a fool.

“You’re fine.”

“I’m not. I haven’t been fine for awhile now. I miss you so much. I love you, Jack. That’s what I’ve been trying—very badly as it turns out—to tell you. I love you and I miss you. It’s not the same here without you and I just want to come home.”

She held her breath. He was silent for ages—or maybe it just felt that way. He was looking at her as if she’d spoken in a language foreign to him.

“Bloody hell,” he said.

“I want another chance. Am I too late?”

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” the DJ boomed over the loud speaker. “We have a very special surprise for the happy couple. If our lovely hostess could join me now to make the announcement?”

“Bollocks!” she said. “Perfect timing. Do I look okay?”

He raised his hands in the air as though completely bewildered, then choked out an incredulous laugh. He cupped her cheek and used his thumb to gently wipe a small tear from under her eye.

“You look fine. You look beautiful. As always.”

“Will you stay? Afterwards? So we can talk? I mean, if you want. If you can’t, I’ll understand,” she said.

He gave a small, noncommittal tilt of his head.

“Ms. Fisher?” the DJ called again. “Where’s Phryne?”

She walked quickly toward the little stage, pulling a small slip of paper from where she’d kept it tucked behind the strap of her bra. Just a few things she wanted to remember in her toast to Hugh and Dot.

She hadn’t thought she’d need the notes, but she was glad to have them when she looked out over the crowd and saw Jack. He was leaning against a pillar, his hands in his pockets, a look on his face she couldn’t read. She tore her eyes from his to concentrate on getting through the next few minutes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne gets Jack's answer.

Jack didn’t hear a word of Phryne’s toast, though anyone watching would have thought he was paying close attention. Their conversation had been the single most confusing one he’d ever had and he was still trying to sort it out in his head. It had taken such an unexpected turn.

She’d said she loved him.

At least he thought she had. Yes, he was quite sure she had. That, and that she wanted another chance.

It was probably best that they’d been interrupted. He needed time to think.

There were times in the past when it hadn’t been that hard to let himself believe she might love him, but, she was open and friendly and an incorrigible flirt, and he’d never been sure if she didn’t light up a room for everyone the way she did for him.

It was also there in her touch. She touched him often. Her hand lingering on his chest, or wrapped around his bicep, but, he didn’t know if each touch scalded her skin the way it did his.

The times he could most believe it were when they’d made love. He didn’t use that phrase euphemistically—when he was with Phryne, they made love. It was there in her sighs and the way she called his name. In the way her hands dug into his back and she clung to him as though trying to crawl inside his skin, then fell asleep contentedly curled up at his side.

Those words ran through his own head almost constantly when he laid beside her or moved within her, but he’d never said them out loud. He didn’t think she wanted to hear them.

He’d been afraid his love would scare her off. How could it not? Sometimes it even scared him. He loved her like he’d never loved anyone before, or he imagined, ever would again.

But, she had ended it. It had been too much like drowning, she'd said. If it had felt so horrible why would she want it back? And, could he stand it if he got close again only to lose her once more?

Maybe he’d been right in thinking she was too hard to hold.

* * *

 

Phryne said a few words about how much Dot meant to her and about how she wouldn’t have allowed her to marry anyone less remarkable than Hugh, the threw in a couple of jokes, to lighten the mood.

She called the happy couple to join her, then told the crowd to turn their attention to the screen behind the stage. A ten minute video played featuring scenes from Dot and Hugh’s life from childhood to present day. When it ended, a brief burst of pyrotechnics lit up the night.

She found herself pulled into the embrace of a blubbering Dot and overwhelmed Hugh.

Then there was a bit of a crisis with the bartender regarding an over-served guest—she made arrangements to a have a car called to take the man home—and a conversation with the caterer to confirm that, yes, it was all right if leftovers were boxed up and sent home with Hugh’s mother.

She looked around as the crowd was thinning and her heart soared when she saw was that Jack was still there. She couldn’t get to him as more and more people came to say their goodbyes and thank her for the evening. Finally, she made an escape to pay the caterer and DJ, returning to the patio as quickly as possible.

There was one small gaggle of stragglers in a loud discussion on where they should go to end the evening, but other than that, the patio was empty. Just to be sure she walked the entire perimeter, checking in each of the little alcoves.

She stood in the middle of the patio and turned in a slow circle. He wasn’t there and she’d never felt more alone in her life.

She thought she might break. Literally break in two. Her legs didn’t feel sturdy enough to hold her. She sat down heavily on a chair.

She’d laid it all on the line and she’d failed. He didn’t want to hear her out. He didn’t want her at all. There was nothing left to be done.

She’d just have to pull herself together. Other people had survived a broken heart. Hundreds of ordinary people did it everyday. She could handle it too. She’d been through worse.

She stood, ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed her hands down to straighten her dress over her hips. She just had to make it home before falling apart for awhile. She’d be okay, eventually, but she deserved at least a brief moment to mourn this before moving on.

When she looked up, he was standing in the doorway watching her. She sucked in a breath.

“I thought you’d gone.”

“I was just helping Hugh get his mum down to the car. Did you know she took all your food?”

“I’m sure there’s enough left to make you a take-away box, inspector.”

She smiled indulgently. His appetite was infamous.

As she spoke, they moved toward each other. Drawn by an irresistible force, until they were toe to toe. Her heart pounded in her chest. She touched him. Her eyes locked on the spot where her hand lay, flat on his abdomen, as if trying to determine that he was solid and real and here.

His hand came up to cover hers, enveloping it and drawing it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to her palm.

“May I see you home?” 

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. He threading his fingers through hers. It was just as thrilling as the first time he’d held her hand, but more heavily weighted, now that she knew what was at stake.

He didn’t say another word as they made their way back to her place and the silence was agonizing.

“You’re very quiet, Jack. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You took me by surprise tonight,” he said.

“I thought as much,” she said. “I know I didn’t say it terribly well, but I did mean what I said. I love you.”

It was getting easier to say. In fact the words seemed to be bubbling up inside her making her a little light headed. She wanted to say it over and over again.

“You said it just fine,” he replied, “I love you too.”

He didn’t sound happy. He sounded resigned and a little wary. His hand in hers felt loose and warm, but a sideways glance took in his clenched jaw and tense posture.

She felt like she was trying to tame a skittish horse and that any sudden movements would spook him. They’d reached her building.

“Will you come upstairs?”

He looked up toward the floor she lived on, then down at her.

“I’m not sure anything has really changed, Phryne.”

“What do you mean nothing’s changed? I love you and you love me. Isn’t that suppose to change everything?”

“I wish it did.”

“Why doesn’t it?”

“You found my love oppressing. How do I know you won’t again?”

“It wasn’t oppressing, Jack.”

“You said it felt like drowning and you needed to save yourself. That’s not how love should feel.”

“Please don’t quote me. I hardly knew what I was saying.”

“You’re a writer, Phryne. Words are your business.”

“Well, yes,” she turned to face him, “and, for your information, I had a rather lovely speech planned. One in which I spoke more eloquently and didn’t ramble on about practice and drowning and whatever other nonsense I was spewing, but when the time came, I couldn’t remember a word of it.”

“Then maybe the prepared speech wasn’t real, maybe what come out tonight was what’s real.”

“You’re right, but you’re only remembering part of what I said. It wasn’t you or your love that I needed rescuing from. It was being without it.

“A good friend told me recently that when something is important in your life, you make room. I’d already made room for you, Jack. Without even being aware that I had, and you’d taken up residence. Then I went away and that room was empty. Phone calls and messages weren’t enough to fill it and I was miserable.  I think I understand why, now.”

“Why?”

“Because, before I left we decided to put this on hold. We decided to take a step back and we never spoke of what we mean to each other. Of what this really is.”

She reached up to caress his cheek, looking him in the eye.

“What is this, Phryne?” he said, his voice no more than a husky whisper.

“You know what this is, Jack. This is everything.”

For a brief moment time stopped, and then his hand was at the back of her head, pulling her lips to his.

She felt her knees going weak and set her hands on his hips to steady herself. She was drowning again, but it felt fantastic.

When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers. His eyes closed and the ghost of smile on his lips.

“Everything,” he sighed.

“Come upstairs, my love,” she said, tugging him toward the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone happy now?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. That's pretty much it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be part of a longer chapter, but a few of you asked for another chapter today, so I posted this part because you've been very patient. (I'm talking to you @quiltingmom.)
> 
> And
> 
> Happy Birthday @sassybatgirl.

He held the door for her and she stepped into the lobby.

“Good evening Ms. Fisher. Inspector Robinson. How was the party?”

“It was wonderful, Tobias, thank you,” Phryne said. “You’re on the desk late tonight.”

“I was just on my way out. Unless there’s anything you need?”

“Not a thing, thank you,” she said, taking hold of Jack’s arm and steering him to the lift. She was having the strangest feeling of deja vu.

She unlocked her door and walked straight to the kitchen. She pulled a bottle of whisky from the cupboard and poured two small glasses.

She found him on the terrace, looking out over the bay. The moon was large tonight and reflecting in the waters below.

“I’ve always loved this view,” he said.

He took the offered drink, then wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned back against his chest and felt him drop a kiss to the top of her head.

Jack drained his glass in two quick gulps, then set it down so he could put both his arms around her. His hands itched to roam.

She was warm, her body humming with vibrancy. His own body was reacting to having her near and he was sure she could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

He slid one hand up her arm until his fingers found the spot in the dress that revealed that slice of shoulder. He traced it, feeling the heat of her bare skin against his fingertips.

“This has been driving me crazy all night,” he said.

“My shoulder?”

“Your shoulder,” he confirmed. He swept her hair to one side of her neck, bending to kiss the revealed skin. “Your neck,” he mumbled. “All of you.”

He turned her in his arms, pulling her tight to him, one hand firmly on her back, the other cupping her ass to press her closer.

He kissed her. Felt the hot, sweet sweep of her tongue over his. She nipped at his chin, then pulled away, leaving him feeling bereft.

She picked up his glass and headed inside, throwing a glance over her shoulder, beckoning him to follow.

She set the glasses down and pulled off her shoes. She padded barefoot down the hall, her hands working to open the zipper that ran down the side of her dress along her ribcage. He trailed behind her, entranced.

He got to the bedroom in time to see her pull her dress over her head in one easy motion revealing a black lace chemise.

It fell just past her hips leaving her shapely legs completely exposed. The lace was sheer and transparent. He blinked, realizing she wore nothing underneath. When she turned to face him he could see her dusky nipples through the sheer fabric and the patch of dark hair between her thighs.

Somewhere along the way she’d lit the gas fireplace, and the soft glow from the flames suffused her in a warm, golden light.

“Damn, Phryne. What did I do to deserve this?”

The blood rushing madly from his head left him unsteady on his feet.

“Nothing yet, Jack,” she said, sitting down on the bed, crossing her legs and leaning back to watch him. “Take off your clothes.”

He toed off his shoes and shucked off his jacket with haste, letting it drop to the floor. His fingers fumbled a bit as he started on the buttons of his shirt.

“Not so quickly, please,” she said. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

He paused, his eyes meeting hers. His mouth curved up into a rather filthy smirk that said he thought she was a little wicked, and that he liked it.

Then, he did as he was told.

She watched with hungry eyes as he unbuttoned the cuffs at his wrists, pulled the tails of his shirt from his waistband and slowly opened it. She stood up and approached him, pushing the shirt from his shoulders and circled him slowly, dragging her hand over his chest and shoulder.

She came to a stop behind him, running her palms over the taut skin of his back, down his spine and over the still covered globes of his ass. She bit his shoulder, then kissed it better, the slight brush of her soft lips setting him ablaze.

Pressing herself against his back, she wrapped her hands around his waist and opened his trousers, pushing them, along with his boxers, over his hips, down to the floor letting him step out of them.

Jack stood still. He was desperate to turn around and take her in his arms, but she seemed to be enjoying this and he didn’t want to deny her. There was something incredibly exciting about the way she was adoring his body. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

Her hands roamed over him as though she wanted to touch him everywhere, as though she were exploring something new and mysterious. She made him feel beautiful. And loved. And desired.

He held out as long as he could, but he was aching to touch her the way she was touching him. To run his hands over every inch of her. To feel again the familiar terrain he’d tried so hard to conjure up in his mind all these months without her, never quite getting it right.

He needed to feel her again. To taste her. To be inside her. Where he belonged.

He turned and pulled her into his arms, crushing her mouth with his. She gasped, stealing his breath for her own. His cock, hard and throbbing, pressed against her stomach. The lace of her chemise provided an interesting texture, not unpleasant, but not what he wanted to feel.

He slid his hand down to the hem, pushing it up and wrapping his hands over her bare ass, gripping the firm flesh. His fingers slipped between her thighs from behind. She was warm and already wet.

He dropped to his knees, raising her slip over her hips, holding them firmly in place and pressing his mouth to the dark mound of hair, inhaling her scent until he felt dizzy.

She pressed her pelvis to his mouth, her hands in his hair.

“God, Jack. Don’t tease me,” she moaned.

He looked up into her eyes as he slipped two finger inside her, slowly drawing them out and then in again.

She licked her lips and smiled down at him, her pupils dark and wide in her deep blue eyes.

His thumb found her clit and pressed against it. She dropped her head back and he replaced his thumb with his tongue, flicking the sensitive nub, his fingers working inside her until she moaned and her hands gripped his hair so hard it bordered on painful.

Her legs began to shake and he held on to her hips, to steady her, as the orgasm shook her body.

He knew, from previous experience, that there were times when one was not enough for her and he thought tonight might be one of those times. He hoped he could keep up and wanted to give her a good head start to be sure to leave her completely satisfied.

From the way she was stroking his head and shoulders as she came down, he figured he'd made a good beginning, but he was far from finished.

He got to his feet, pulling the lacy garment over her head and tossing it aside. Her chest was heaving, her pupils blown. He cupped her breasts in his hands and she arched into his touch. He bent his head to suckle, drawing a firm nipple between his lips and teasing it with his teeth. One hand covered her other breast and he could feel her heart pulsing under his thumb, her breath coming fast.

He loved that he could do this to her. It made him feel powerful and his cock grew harder in anticipation.

He lifted her from the ground and she wrapped her legs lazily around his thighs, her head falling to his shoulder, as he carried her to the bed.

* * *

 

The hours went by in a blur of hands and lips, limbs tangling under the sheets. The taste of him on her tongue and the feel of him inside her, filling her and making her whole again.

She lost track of how many times he took her to edge, or how many times she tumbled over it, with Jack following after, crying out her name.

The first time she came with him inside her the orgasm had sent her into fits of uncontrollable laughter until she couldn’t breathe. A less confident man might have found that disheartening, but he seemed to see it for what it was—a complete giving over to the joy he sparked inside her.

He’d laughed along with her and then held her until she calmed.

In between, they’d tangle together, stroking each others skin as they talked. Sometimes, all it took was a mumbled endearment in her ear, or a well placed touch to send her reeling again.

She’d clung to him, her nails digging into his flesh, her body desperately trying to draw him in deeper, and he always obliged until, by the time they finally collapsed, exhausted, she could honestly say she’d never been so thoroughly fucked in her life—and she’d spent two days with an acrobat from Cirque du Soleil.

He made one last herculean effort to pull her into his arms and they curled around each other and dropped off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

She awoke in the morning curled up against him, his front to her back, his arm draped across her waist. She drew in a contended breath and felt him shift a little closer.

“Morning, love,” he murmured into her hair.

“That’s another thing I’ve missed,” she said, turning in his arms to face him.

“What’s that?”

“You’re morning greeting,” she tilted her head in invitation and he kissed her, pulling her close. A long, slow, melding of lips, skin, heat.

“Do you have to run off to the station this morning?”

“No. I’m technically off today. There are a few thing on my desk that I could go work on, but nothing that can’t wait,” he said, running his hand down her thigh and back up to rest on her hip.

“Good,” she said sitting up.

“Where are you going?” He made a grab for her and pulled her back back down.

“I was going to make you breakfast,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t look so surprised. You are my guest, after all.”

“Well, then, as your guest, do I have a say in the menu?” He asked, pressing her back to the mattress and dipping his head to trace his tongue over her nipple.

“That depends,” she said, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders and trying to resist the temptation to push him down to where she wanted him most. “What did you have in mind?”

He moved slowly, kissing a line from her breastbone to her naval before stopping to look up at her, requesting permission to continue.

She brought her knees up, setting her feet flat on the mattress along side his shoulders.

“I’m nothing if not a generous host. Help yourself, Jack.”

The dangerous smile he gave her before disappearing between her legs brought a rush of wet heat. She dropped her head back on the pillow, sighing happily as he tongued her sensitive flesh.

He seemed to realize she would be a bit tender after last night and his touch was gentle, feather light and exquisite. When he hummed in pleasure, the sound, combined with the vibration at her core sent a wave of desire through her.

She fisted her hands in his hair, dragging him up her body. She claimed his lips and tasted herself on his tongue, then rolled them over, sitting up and straddling his hips, sliding over him. When they were both ready, she rose up to take him in.

She watched his eyes as she lowered herself slowly. He was fixated on their joining as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. She caressed his cheek and swept an errant curl from his forehead.

His gaze moved up her body. His hands followed, spanning her rib cage, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts as she settled on him and stilled. They both groaned slightly, each a bit sore after the previous night’s activities.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Even your namesake would pale in comparison.”

She met his eye, smiling slyly. People were forever asking where her name came from. He never had.

“I might have googled it. The day we met,” he said, in answer to her unasked question.

She threw her head back and laughed, then steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders and took control. His eyes met hers and she could tell he was staining to hold himself back and allow her set the pace and depth. Soon any pain she felt morphed into pleasure and she was moving over him at a frantic pace.

That seemed to give him permission, and he thrust up into her, his hips coming up off the mattress, bucking against her as she rode him.

When he was close, he brought his hand between them, pressing gently against her clit pulsing until she spasmed around him, triggering his release.

After, she sprawled on his chest, his hand running lightly over her back, as their bodies cooled.

“I’ll never get enough of you, Phryne Fisher,” he said.

“I like the sound of that, Jack,” she said.

“Good,” he said, smiling down at her. “I might need a little recovery time right now, though.”

“Me too. And, we can’t have you going all day on an empty stomach, inspector,” she said, rolling from the bed.

“All day? You might be a tad optimistic, Fisher.”

“We’ll see.”

She snatched his shirt from the floor and pulled it on, rolling up the sleeves and buttoning just enough buttons to keep it closed.

“That definitely looks better on you, but what am I supposed to wear?”

“Not my problem, Jack,” she said.

He was sitting up in the bed, naked. The sheets haphazardly lay across his lap, revealing part of one hip. His hair was almost standing on end and his face was still slightly flushed from their exertions.

“On the other hand, you are a bit distracting like that,” she said.

She went to her dresser and pulled a t-shirt from the upper left drawer, tossing it to him. He caught it and held it up.

“Hey! I’ve been wondering where this was. I thought I left it at the gym.  It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine too. I may have slept in it, more than once,” she said tossing him a saucy look over her shoulder as she left the room.

* * *

 

He stood to clear the plates from the table.

“I’ll get those,” she said.

“No. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“I hardly cooked, Jack. It was tea and re-warmed scones—that Dot baked.”

“You offered eggs.”

“Until I realized I didn’t have any.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” he said, kissing the top of her head on the way to the sink.

She turned to watch him. They’d had breakfast together before, but everything about this felt new and different. She couldn’t stop looking at him and the strangest things were popping into her head.

He liked to cook, said it relaxed him, and he’d once tried to cook her dinner but complained that she didn’t have the proper tools.

“You’re selection of pans is sorely lacking,” he’d whined. “You don’t even have a decent sized pasta pot. How do you cook spaghetti?”

“I don’t, Jack,” she’d said.

That wasn’t entirely true. She had made spaghetti, she just broke the long noodles up to make them fit into the pot.

This morning, an alarmingly domestic picture popped into her head of the two of them making meals together in a kitchen fitted with proper cookware. She wondered if that should concern her.

She didn’t want to rush things, but she couldn’t seem to help projecting this out into the future. It was a new experience, the most frightening aspects of it being her uncertainty that he would want it too, and that they could successfully join their lives.

He wiped his hands on a towel, turning away from the sink.

“There. All done.”

“Sit down, Jack. There’s something I have to show you,” she said.

She left the room for a moment. When she returned she dropped a manila folder on the table in front of him. Without a word of explanation, she sat back down and waited as he flipped through it.

“What is this, Phryne?” His voice had an edge. She’d expected that.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re digging around in something I’d rather you stay away from. You’ve got stuff here on Alistair Alric, and his daughter. What’s this about?”

“Before you get too upset, all of this was obtained without a word to anyone. I found everything through internet searches or the library. All public records. No one knows I’m looking into this. Not even Dot.”

“What, exactly, are you looking into?”

“I don’t believe Ray Grimes was acting alone or that Alric didn’t know what’s been going on in his hotel, and I’ve found an interesting connection in that regard.”

Jack stared at her for a long moment, then let out a sigh, handing the file over to her.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

She quickly slid her chair around next to his. She rifled through the folder and pulled out a copy of a photo from a newspaper. It was of a youth football club championship team from about twenty years ago.

“That’s Branson Street,” she said, pointing to one of the boys. “Alistair Alric’s son-in-law.”

“He took over his family’s business after his father went to prison for illegal trades,” Jack said.

“And, married Melody Alric about eight years ago.”

“Right. And why do we care that he played footie when he was...” Jack checked the date on the photo, “about twelve years old?”

“It’s who he played with,” she said, pointing at another boy. “This here is none other than Ray Grimes, our late, drug dealing concierge,” she said, “I suppose it could be a coincidence, but—”

“But you think it’s too much of a coincidence. You think Street was working with an old buddy from his childhood to run a drug ring inside his father-in-laws hotel? That’s a bit of a stretch from one, old, team photo.”

“Maybe. But, what if there was more to it? What if there were more connections and what if they procured more than just drugs, Jack? Wasn’t Angela seen with that business man in the hotel bar?”

“Angela Connors? What’s she got to do with this?”

“You never believed she accidentally fell from the roof and a witness put her in the hotel bar with a man Alric was very keen to protect, right?”

“Yes. One of the waitresses said that she was with the man, but no one else could, or would, back it up. In fact the bartender remembers seeing both the man and Angela that night but says he never saw them near each other, much less speaking.”

“Do you remember that bartender’s name?”

“Peter something or other, it’s in my files.”

“Peter Williams,” she said, pointing to a third face in the footie team photo. And here’s one last little coincidence.”

Jack leaned in to get a closer look at the face she was pointing to.

“That’s not...”

“Reg Blackstone,” she said. “You remember him, don’t you, Jack?  It’s the case you were working when we met. The trafficking and prostitution case.”

“He was low level. Cut a deal for three months in return for information. It’s an interesting coincidence, but it might not mean anything,” Jack said, but something in his gut said differently.

“Maybe he took what he’d learned and applied it elsewhere, with the help of old friends,” Phryne said. “Adrian Cummings did tell me that everyone knew the concierge could get you whatever you wanted. Maybe Grimes was procuring more than just drugs for the hotel guests.”

“And Angela would fit the profile of the girls from that earlier case. Young, no family to speak of, she’d been living on the streets when she first came to Melbourne. Why didn’t I make any of these connections?” he asked, more to himself than to her.

“Why would you? It’s all very circumstantial. We don’t even have evidence that these men stayed in touch and there’s nothing to say that Alistair Alric is in any way involved. It’s a lot of smoke, but no fire. Yet.”

“Are you writing a story?”

“I don’t have anything solid yet and I can’t really take this any further without drawing attention to what I’m doing. I don’t want to do anything that might cause problems for you,” she said.

“For me? What about for you? This could be dangerous.”

“The personal risks I take are up to me, Jack. I decide what’s worth it, but—” she held up her hand to halt the objection he was about to launch, “but—I’ve learned that there are other people I need to take into consideration. People who care about me. Who I care about.”

“Am I included in this list?”

“You’re at the top of it,” she said. “This is an adjustment for me, Jack and I won’t always do what you want me to do, you know that, don’t you? Ultimately, the decision will be mine.”

“Even if it puts you in jeopardy?”

“You’re job puts you in jeopardy every day.”

“Not everyday,” he said. “But, I see your point. And, honestly, Phryne, I never expected you to stop being you. I wouldn’t want you to, but I will worry and argue my point. I may even argue it loudly at times. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So, what are you planning to do with all of this?”

“I’m giving it to you,” she said.

“Why?” he said, tilting his head and looking as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not sure, really. As I said, I’ve taken it as far as I can under the radar. I think there’s something here, but this story hits a little too close to home. I know you have other considerations, with regard to your job, and that there are people watching you that wouldn’t want any of this to come to light.”

“So, you’re protecting me?”

“For a man in your position, having a girlfriend that likes to write about crime is going to be a challenge at times. I didn’t think it fair to start out with a trial by fire.”

“Are you my girlfriend, Phryne?” His eyes sparkled as he raised a teasing eyebrow.

“I’m not fond of the term,” she huffed, “It seems juvenile, but I don’t know what else to call it. I’ve had lovers, Jack. This is more than that.”

“I don’t see why we need to call it anything, but, for the record, I like partners.”

“That does sound nicer.”

“Although, being Phryne Fisher’s lover doesn’t sound bad either.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in her hands and gazed at him in a come-hither manner. “A great many men would envy you that title,” she said.

“I’ve no doubt.”

“What are you going to do with the file, Jack?”

“Well. I’ve been warned about doing anything that might reflect badly on the illustrious Alistair Alric, and you’ve been warned, by me, to stay away from all of this, so naturally, we’re going to keep digging.”

“We? Together?”

“I think it’s been established that we’re better that way. But, let’s take it slow. Give me some time to look through some old files. Maybe I can find other connections. But we’d better keep this here,” he said, pushing the file toward her. “I can’t risk it being seen in my office.”

“You should talk to Sally,” she said. “Nothing happens in the sex trade that she doesn’t know about, and she likes you.”

“Ah, but will she still like me when she hears I have a girlfriend?” he said, reaching for her and pulling her into his lap.

“I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

He traced a finger along the open neckline of his dress shirt to where it reached her breasts. “I’m gonna need this shirt back, Fisher.”

She got up from his lap, toying with the buttons as she backed from the room.

“Then, come and get it, inspector.”


	15. Chapter 15

“He was released without parole, which I suppose I shouldn’t read too much into, but, it’s interesting. With the reduced sentence you’d think there’d be at least a short period of supervision.”

“So, Reg Blackstone served his three months, walked away, and no one gave him another thought?” Phryne asked, reaching over again to steal from his plate.

“If you wanted the fries, you should have ordered the fries,” he scolded.

“I’ve had two!”

He rolled his eyes at the obvious lie, then pushed his plate closer to hers.

“There’s no record of Blackstone having any run-ins with authorities since his release,” Jack continued. “So I don’t have any reason to look into him officially.”

“What about Ray Grimes. What did the inquiry into his death conclude?”

“He’d had no visitors since he was put in lock-up, not even a lawyer, so the assumption was that he smuggled the drugs in on his person.”

“Wasn’t he searched.”

“Yes, but... well, let’s just say there are places that might be missed. There was no reason to think him suicidal, so he wasn’t on a watch, but I find the timing interesting.”

“Why?”

“If he planned to top himself, why not do it right away? He was there for nearly thirty hours and we had nothing on him, short of—your testimony.” He looked at her apologetically.

“Which proved worthless.”

“Not worthless, but not enough to have charged him, so we’d have had to release him. Then there’s the fact that he was served a meal shortly before his overdose.”

“Are you saying the food might have been tampered with?”

“I’m saying his death came quickly after his meal had been served. I’m not drawing any conclusion.”

“Was the tray tested?”

“According to the guard that found him there was nothing left to test, and let me add here that the jailhouse isn’t known for its cuisine.”

She gave him a long, suspicious glare. “How long have you suspected an inside job?”

Jack looked down and picked at his plate.

“All along. Am I right?” she asked. She known, weeks ago, when he’d spoken of Grimes overdose, that he was holding something back.

“We can’t talk about this here,” he said, dropping his voice.

She looked around. They were in a public restaurant, but no one was paying them any attention.

“How far up do you think this goes?”

“Not here, Phryne.”

“Alright. Later. We’ll discuss what I’ve uncovered instead. That bartender, Williams, has taken Grimes job at the hotel. He’s the new concierge. That could be chalked up to promoting from within, but it’s interesting. Unfortunately we still don’t have anything to put these men together other than a twenty year old photo.”

“The thing is, they could all be communicating without our ever being able to see it. They’d never actually have to meet physically, but I don’t know how we’ll find out. I’ve no reason to ask for surveillance of any kind,” Jack said.

“I think it’s time I call in outside help,” Phryne said.

“You don’t mean those tin foil hats? They’re nutters, Phryne.”

“They’re brilliant,” she defended. “Bert may be a bit prone to conspiracy theories, but if there’s a digital footprint, he’ll find it, and Cec is quite sensible. They’re excellent investigators.”

“Investigators makes them sound legit, Phryne. They’re hackers. Those two skirt the law to the edge of a knife.”

“Cec and Bert never step over the line, Jack! At least, not in any way you’d be able to tell.”

“The less I know about it, the better. Agreed? I’ve got to get back to the station,” he said.

“What time will you be—over?” She’d caught herself just before saying ‘home’.

“Are you sure? It’s been every night this week?”

“Oh,” she said, feeling herself blush. “If you’re busy, then, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to presume.”

“I’m not busy and I’d love to see you tonight. I just thought you might want a break.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. But let me take you out tonight. I haven’t even asked you on a proper date yet.”

“I think a proper date would require more than a few hours notice, but I accept.”

“You, my love, are gracious as always. I don’t deserve you,” he said pompously, lifting her hand and kissing the back of it.

“You are an idiot.”

“Pick you up at seven?”

“Yes.”

He dropped some cash to cover the bill and she turned to watch him walk away. She did love to watch him walk away.

* * *

 

“Dinner was wonderful. Thank you, Jack,” she said, taking hold of his arm.

“My pleasure,” he said, meaning it sincerely.

It had been awhile since they’d done this. Just the two of them, at a restaurant, no agenda and no tension between them. They’d agreed that there would be no talk of their investigation and they’d broken the rule only once, very briefly.

They’d never lacked for other conversation and had sat at the table for hours. While they had, the weather had taken a turn.

“Do you think we should get a cab? We’re likely to get caught in the rain if we try to walk back,” he said, eyeing the threatening sky overhead. Thunder rumbled in the not too far distance.

“It’s only a few blocks. I think we can risk it,” she said.

They were in sight of their destination when the wind picked up and the skies opened. It was one of those immediate downpours. The rain fell in sheets. He grabbed her hand and started to run.

“You know, it’s been proven that running doesn’t help. You still get just as wet,” she shouted, increasing her pace to keep up with him.

“That may be, but it still gets you inside faster!”

Just as they reached her door, a loud clap of thunder shook the sky, making Jack jump, which Phryne found hysterical and they burst into the lobby, dripping wet and laughing loudly.

“Are you afraid of thunderstorms, Jack?” She said, pushing her wet hair back off her face.

“Not afraid. I was just startled. I actually like them, I just prefer to be watching them from inside.”

“Well, come on then, I’ve got the perfect viewing spot and it will be nice and warm too.”

Ten minutes later, their wet clothes hung in the laundry, Jack was settled between Phryne’s knees in her tub as they watched the storm rage through a large picture window.

“Shouldn’t we draw the blinds?”

“I rarely do. We’re on the tenth floor with no facing building. I’ve only ever had birds spy on me and even they won’t be out on a night like this. Wait, I take that back,” she said, “I did once give the window washer quite a show.”

He had no idea if she was serious, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

“A man could get used to this,” he sighed, running his hands over her outer thighs and along her legs. He closed his eyes and might have drifted off to sleep if her next question hadn’t roused him.

“How long were you with Jo?” she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Do you not want to talk about it?” she said, “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just not a straight forward answer. If you mean the last time, it was four years. We lived together for almost two of those.”

“The last time?”

“Jo and I met at Uni. We hung out in groups that overlapped on occasion.”

“And you started dating?”

“It was an on again, off again thing. It wasn’t until we met again a few years out of school that I’d call it a real relationship.”

“On again, off again? Does that mean you were just hooking up? That doesn’t sound like the Jack I know,” she teased.

“It wasn’t what you’re thinking,” he said, “I was so far from a ladies’ man it was laughable. I was shy and pretty awkward around girls. Jo was the forward one. I doubt I’d ever have asked her out on my own.”

“So, she pursued you?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. She was pretty and very popular. She could’ve had her pick of guys, but she seemed to like me and that was flattering. When she dumped me, that first time, I was heartbroken.”

“She dumped you? Why?”

“Dumped me is probably the wrong description. It seems we had a fundamental misunderstanding regarding our relationship. We weren’t sleeping together, but we were spending quite a lot of time together, and there was a fair bit of pashing going on.

“I thought we were going out. She didn’t. As I discovered one night when she left a party with another guy.”

“Poor baby,” she said, kissing the side of his neck.

“Yes, I was a little pathetic,” he admitted.

“Did you confront her?”

“No,” he said, emphatically. “I was humiliated and proud. I wasn’t going to let her see that she’d hurt me, so I behaved as if it hadn’t touched me and before long, she was coming around again.”

“So you won.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “I think it set us off on an unhealthy pattern. Each time we hooked up I would half believe it was the beginning of something real. That this time it would be different, but I don’t think I ever really trusted her. I always thought she was looking for the next, better thing. So I was guarded with her. I don’t think we were ever truly honest with each other.”

“Then how did you come to be living together?”

“After school, she moved back home and I stayed in Melbourne. That seemed to be the end of it until a few years later when she took a job here and looked me up. We kind of fell back into a pattern. The rest, as they say is history, and I do mean history. It’s almost like it happened to a different person.”

“Did you love her?”

“I thought I did.”

He’d lived with this woman and now seemed so dismissive of the entire relationship. She shivered.

“You thought you did? Like you think you love me, now?” She said, her voice brittle.

He sat up and shifted so he was facing her.

“No. Not at all like that, actually.”

“No?”

“Jo and I were never really on equal footing. We’d started on a shaky foundation and it was never going to last.”

“We started on a shaky foundation,” she argued.

“I don’t see it that way,” he said. “We had a rough patch.”

“What’s the difference?”

He fidgeted. “This conversation is taking a heavy turn for sitting naked in a tub,” he said. “It’s not exactly what I’d pictured happening here.”

“I’m sorry for disappointing,” she said, peevishly.

“I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. We can discuss it if you need to, but can I suggest we continue under the covers?”

She nodded, with a weak smile and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around herself. He followed, then took her into his arms, kissing her with such powerful intent she nearly forgot her trepidation.

“It’s not the same, Phryne. Trust me. It’s nothing like it.”

She looked into his eyes and all she could see there was love. A love so clear and pure she couldn’t imagine it had ever been there for anyone else. She ran her hands over his bare chest, his skin was cool and slightly clammy.

“Come on, Jack. Under the covers it is.”

They crawled into bed and he pulled her close in an attempt to share body heat. She tilted her head up to accept his kiss and for a long minute they gave in to their hunger for each other. Tongues danced and hands roamed until all chill was banished and, if anything, it became too warm under the covers.

“Tell me why it’s different,” she said, twisting her fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest.

“Well, for one thing, you’re not Jo.”

“I know that much, Jack.”

"Really. You’re nothing like her. She made me work for it.”

“Sex?”

“No—well, sometimes,” he admitted, “but I meant more for her, in general. For her affection. I was never sure where I stood with her. She was a terrible flirt.”

“I’m a flirt.”

“Yes,” he smiled. “You are most definitely that, but it’s playful with you. You don’t tease and I don’t get the impression it has anything to do with me. It’s just part of your nature. Jo did it to keep me off balance. To remind me that there were always men in the wings that would be happy to take my place.”

“I have a hard time picturing you putting up with that.”

“I told you, when I met her, I was shy and pretty unsure of myself. She was this gorgeous girl that everyone wanted and when she wanted me, it made me feel like a king—now that I say this out loud, that sounds an awful lot like you, too—maybe you have more in common than I thought,” he pinched her ass playfully.

“Don’t say that. The more you tell me about this woman, the less I like her. Other than her taste in men, she sounds very foolish. But, Jack, you must have realized you were worth more than that? Don’t try to tell me you don’t know how attractive you are to women.”

“I’ll admit, by the time I left school I had begun to notice that some women seemed to like what they saw.”

“The breathing ones,” Phryne said. He laughed.

“Things were better when she came back and we started again. I had more experience with decent relationships and wasn’t so easily led. She didn’t start in with the games right away. It was good. She’s smart and funny and I probably took a little pride in thinking I’d finally won her over, but slowly she reverted to old ways. It was so gradual I didn’t even see it happening. When I did notice, and pushed back, she switched gears.

“She’s the one that suggested we move in together. She said she only acted the way she did because she was unsure of me. Moving in together was what she needed from me to prove my commitment.”

“And did it work?”

“For awhile. I was doing well at work, and I liked my job, but she never wanted to hear about it, and that became a wedge. It was like I had to keep part of myself hidden from her. She even seemed embarrassed to tell her friends what I did for a living.

“It got to the point where it seemed nothing I did was good enough, and we argued, a lot.”

“So you ended it?”

“No,” he said, abashed. “It would have been more honorable, but part of me, the stubborn part, wouldn’t be the one to let go. Instead I disengaged. We hardly went out together. I spent more time at work and when I was home, I was in the garage, working on my bikes or out riding. After awhile we were just roommates that happened to share a bed. One day, I came home and all her things were gone.”

“She just took off?”

“She left a note,” he shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. I’m not proud of the way I acted, but in all honesty, the end was a relief.”

It hadn’t even hurt. It had also freed him to admit to himself what he’d already begun to feel for Phryne. He hadn’t let that little bud grow until then.

She started playing with the hairs on his chest again and wouldn’t meet his eye.

“Why are you asking about this, Phryne?”

“I guess I’ve just been wondering about it. How you can love someone enough to live with them and then have it go so wrong.”

“It happens. Sometimes even in good relationships, but I think being honest with each other is the best way to avoid it.”

“You’ve said that from the start,” she said.

“Because I think it’s important.”

“And, if I’d been honest about what I was feeling when we were apart, maybe all of it could’ve been avoided, but I didn’t really understand what was happening to me. All of this is new to me. What if I mess up again, and you decide you’ve had enough?”

“I don’t see that happening—the part about me having had enough, I mean—you messing up is inevitable,” he mocked.

She hit him. “Be serious.”

“Do you doubt that I love you?”

“No,” she said.

“And, I know you love me, because you told me you did, and you don’t lie,” he said, rolling her onto her back and pinning her body to the mattress. “So, I’m going to proceed under that premise until you tell me differently. And, I will fight for you, Phryne. I won’t let you run and I won’t walk away.”

He kissed her. She returned the kiss, deepening it until he was pressing against her urgently. She bit his lip, causing him to pull back in surprise and then took the opportunity to flip them so she was on top.

She trailed her lips and tongue over his neck, along his clavicle and down his chest, letting her hands move over him, marking her path.

“I do love you, Jack. I love every inch of you,” she said as her hands reached their destination and she stroked him adoringly. She looked down to watch as he grew in her hand.

She kissed her way down his abdomen. His breath was coming hard now, his chest hauling like a bellows.

“Phryne,” he croaked.

He never asked her for this, but she knew he liked it, and his guttural groan as she took his tip into her mouth sent a thrill through her.

“Relax, Jack, or this will go far too quickly, and I want to enjoy it.”


	16. Chapter 16

When she woke, something was different. It took a second to realize what it was and she felt around to confirm that the bed next to her was empty, the sheets cold. She opened her eyes just as he came back into the room.

“Where are you off to?”

He approached the bed, leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve got to get to work,” he said.

She grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him down, raising her lips to meet his. He hummed happily. She checked the clock, it was just after six.

“Why so early? Has something come up?”

“No. I need to stop home for a clean shirt. I don’t have any more in my desk.”

He usually kept a freshly laundered shirt or two at work, in case of emergency, but he’d already used those earlier in the week.

“You really should leave some clothes here,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “People must be noticing you keep wearing the same suit.”

“Where would I put them? You don’t seem to have trouble filling your closet on your own.”

He was quite sure people had noticed the suits, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. It was nobody's business where he spent his nights.

“I have the space,” she said.

She had three bedrooms. One she’d converted to an office but the other had been Dot’s and stood empty now.

“I’ll just put my off season things in the other room,” she said.

“You don’t need to go to the trouble. I don’t live that far away.”

“It’s no trouble. It’ll make your life easier and I like waking up with you.”

“I like waking up with you, too,” he said, kissing her on the nose. “Do I get a drawer as well?”

“We’ll negotiate,” she said, giving him a seductive glare.

“I look forward to it,” he replied. “What are your plans today?”

“I’m meeting with a couple of fellas you’d rather not know about.”

“Ah. Then say no more.”

“And I think I’ll go see Sal today. Since you can’t ask her questions without raising eyebrows, I thought I would, though she doesn’t like me nearly as much,” she said.

“Are you jealous, Fisher? She's old enough to be my mother.”

“That doesn’t stop you from flirting with her, inspector.”

“I do not flirt with her. Sal and I go back a long way and I have great respect for what she does. I’m very fond of her. I’d rather she weren’t involved in this,” he said, sounding concerned.

“She won’t be. I’ll just say I’m contemplating another article—an update to the one from a couple of years ago. I might even write it. I’m sure there are people that would be interested in hearing how those girls are doing now.”

“But, how will that line of questioning help us?”

“I’ll find a way to steer it around to what we want to know. She won’t be any the wiser.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t so sure if even Phryne, with all her abilities, would be able to pull the wool over Sally’s eyes. He almost wished he could be there to watch the battle of wits.

He kissed her again and turned to go.

“Oh, and remember, tonight is the stag, so—” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, not wanting to just assume she expected to see him tonight, but that did seem to be the way things were going, and he couldn’t say he was unhappy with that development.

“That’s right,” she said, thinking how very domestic this was all starting to feel, and that perhaps she should be alarmed by that—or at least alarmed by the realization that she wasn’t alarmed.

“Well, have a good time and take care of Hugh,” she said, “if you break him you’ll have Dot to deal with.”

“It’s just a pub crawl. And, Hugh can take care of himself. Dot needn’t worry.”

“Maybe I’ll see if she wants to have dinner. Though, I’ll have to invite Mac and Claire along to avoid talking about wedding plans all night.”

“Good idea. You should spend more time with your friends.”

“Are you getting tired of me already?”

“You know the answer to that. I’m more worried I’m monopolizing you and that _you’ll_ tire of me.”

“Not happening.”

“Good.”

They smiled, rather stupidly, at each other for a long moment.

“We’ll talk later?” he finally said.

She nodded.

“Be careful today. Some of the people that hang around Sal’s are shady,” he said, furrowing his brow.

“I’m aware, inspector. Don’t worry so much. Try to forget you’re the boss tonight and have some fun.”

After he’d gone, she found herself smiling broadly and had the strangest compulsion to hug her pillow close to her chest and curl into a tight ball in order to keep from flying apart.

* * *

“Yeah,” the woman gave a sad smile, took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled, peering at Phryne through the haze. “That was a hard one, but I learned a long time ago that I can’t help all of ‘em.”

She looked older than her years, but there was still a bit of sparkle behind the steely determination in her eyes and obvious evidence of the beauty she had once been. Despite all she’d seen, she was a surprisingly cheerful woman.

She wore no makeup, her clothing was utilitarian, and her long greying hair was pulled back in a braid. She was slight and delicate looking, but Phryne knew assuming her to be weak based on appearances was done at one’s own peril. This woman had gone toe to toe with some terrifying people and come away the victor.

They stood on the back stoop of the old brick building she’d turned into a shelter. The lower level was a diner where the girls could work until they got on their feet. Living quarters were upstairs.

Thus far, Sally had been polite but not terribly forthcoming and it had taken awhile to steer the conversation to Angela Connors.

“So, you knew Angela?” Phryne asked, trying to hide her excitement, hoping Sally would elaborate.

“Not well. One of the girls that passed through here was a friend of Angie’s. She asked me to help get her out. I had her around to tea a few times, but she wasn’t ready to leave the trade. Said she was in a ‘safe’ place and making good cash.”

“She said she was safe? Are any of these girls really safe?”

Sally shrugged. “Some are safer than others. Seems Angie, or Trina as she called herself, thought she’d found the holy grail. A pimp with a heart of gold. He was only gonna send her on the best sort of dates. Take good care of her."

"Is that likely?"

“That’s a fantasy. If a girl wants to work in the trade, I try to steer them toward one of the licensed brothels. Angie said she could make better money where she was. She said her dates would be of the ‘highest caliber—important men,’ she called ‘em.”

“And she had someone that arranged these liaisons for her?”

“Liaisons?” Sally laughed. “Isn’t that a pretty word? These, ‘high caliber’ men she talked of, they aren’t looking for anything pretty. In my experience they’re the worst kind. They wanna stay under the radar and have the freedom to do things the brothels won’t go for.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Poor girl. She was a child. Not all of them are, you know? Despite their young age, but that one—she was a child.”

“Do you believe her death was an accident?”

Sally eyed Phryne suspiciously. “No idea, hon. All I know is it’s a waste. But, like I said. I can’t save ‘em all.”

“You do more than most people in that regard. How many girls do you have here now?”

“I got beds enough for fourteen. We’re a little over half full at the moment.”

“Are any of the girls from my last story still around? What about that friend of Angie’s? I’d love to be able to highlight how much this place has helped them turn their lives around. In fact, I’d like to do a full feature on everything you do.”

“I’m not sure I need the publicity. Some of the neighbors don’t especially like having me and my girls here. It’s safer if we stay quiet.”

“We could keep your location out of it, but people should know what you do here. You provide these girls with a safe and healing environment. You show them their worth and try to undo what is often years of having their self-esteem beaten down to nothing.”

“I’ve got a lot of good people that help with that,” she said, modestly.

“Who are some of those people?” Phryne asked.

“Well, there’s the ones that help with funds and others that volunteer their time. I’ve got a couple of psychologists that help with de-programming and counseling, and there’s a martial arts instructor comes by to teach the girls how to defend themselves.” She paused, taking another drag on the cigarette. “I’ve even got a cop that comes around to tell them what their legal rights are. You’d be surprised how many cops will take advantage of these girls,” she said. “Jackie’s one of the good ones.”

“Jackie? Jack Robinson?”

“That’s right—you know him don’t you?" Sally said, as though a light bulb had gone off. "I remember. He vouched for you when you came around that first time.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t so sure about you. You looked a little—well, fancy— but he said I could trust you. Said you’d do right by my girls. That was good enough for me.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” Phryne said.

“You two still in touch, then?” Sally asked, eyeing Phryne a little to knowingly for Phryne’s liking.

“Yes. Yes, we are,” she answered, lowering her head to try to hide the blush she felt creeping up her neck.

Sally laughed.

“I could see it that first time you two came here together. Jack’s a good cop, and an even better man.”

Phryne looked up and met Sally’s eye.

“I know that.”

“Good.” Sally put her cigarette out in a sand bucket by the door. “Now, how about you buy a cup of coffee in my diner and tell my why you’re really here, ‘cause this isn’t about no follow-up story.”

She waved her hand, inviting Phryne inside. Phryne had the distinct feeling she’d just been played, but if it got her what they needed, she could live with that.

* * *

 

“Do you want me to stop them?” Hugh asked, nervously. It was only the second bar of the night and already his cousins were pissed, growing louder and more obnoxious by the minute.

“Relax Hugh. They’re just having a good time and you’re not working for me tonight. If they get out of hand, I’ll deal with it. Go enjoy yourself.”

“I’m fine right here, thanks.” He leaned back against the bar next to Jack and took a pull from his beer. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I have to go out and get crazy before I get married. They act like I’m heading to my doom.”

Jack laughed. “And, you don’t feel that way?”

“Nah! I’m dead chuffed, actually.”

“I suppose, when you find the right one,” Jack said, trailing off.

“Yeah. Dotty’s great. I think I knew it the first time I saw her. And since then, wherever we are, it’s like she’s the only woman in the room, you know what I mean?”

“Bliss from day one, then?” Jack said, in a teasing manner. He knew Hugh and Dot had had a few bumps along the way, but apparently all that was forgotten in Hugh’s pre-marital fog of love. He slapped Hugh on the back. “You’re a good man, Collins.”

“How about you?” Hugh elbowed him. “Have you found the right one?”

“Why do blokes getting married always want to drag their mates along with them?”

“I’ve just noticed that you seem pretty happy these days, Jack, that’s all.”

“You’re getting too good at your job,” Jack said, tapping Hugh’s bottle with his own, “But you’re right, I am happy. I just don’t think I’ll be following your lead any time soon. She’s not exactly the marrying type.”

“I don’t know about that. Dotty says she’s plenty happy too.”

“Let’s not rush things, alright?” Jack said, though his stomach had done a little flip.

“But, it’s good?”

“Yeah. It’s good,” Jack said. “It’s real good. But enough about our women. This night is suppose to be for you and even if you are excited about marrying Dot—which I don’t blame you for—that doesn’t mean you can’t have a bit of fun with your mates first.”

A roar went up from the group and their attention was drawn in that direction. One of Hugh’s cousins was leering at the server, making lewd gestures behind her back. Jack set his beer on the bar and started over, but Hugh got there first, putting himself between his cousin and the young woman.

“Knock it off, mate, or I’ll put you on your ass,” he hissed, menacingly. “She’s not here for your amusement.”

Jack smiled. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, poked out a message and hit send.

_Hey. Hope you’re having a good night. Tell Dot all’s well here. Love you._

Phryne read the message again later, just before turning out her light. A night on her own would do her good. She needed the sleep, but she couldn’t help missing his presence a bit.

It wasn’t very late. He was probably still out with the boys. She read the message one more time.

_Love you too._

She hit send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my, admittedly minimal, research I found that Melbourne does have quite a few legal brothels that I easily found information for online.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evidence is uncovered that creates some friction between the two detectives.

First thing in the morning she called him, hoping she’d catch him before he left for work. He answered quickly, sounding surprisingly wide awake.

“How was the bachelor party?” she asked.

“Not bad, but I’m getting too old for this stuff.”

“Yes, you’re ancient, Jack,” she said, sarcastically. “I saw Sally yesterday.”

“How'd that go?"

“Can we meet for drinks tonight?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up at the station around 5:30.”

* * *

 

“Where are we? You said we were going for drinks,” Jack said.

“Just a small detour. Bert called earlier. He has information for us.”

“I told you I didn’t want to know,” he said.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” she said, knocking out a complicated rhythm on the door.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said, “and, what the hell are you doing?”

“This will let them know it’s me,” she said, finishing with a flourish of taps.

“Oh, for pete’s sake,” he groused.

There wasn’t really a secret knock, but she found Jack’s exasperation amusing.

The door opened wide and a tall, dark haired man, who might have been intimidating if not for his wide friendly grin, greeted them.

“Hey! Come in! Come in!” He shook hands with Jack, pumping his arm up and down.

“Shut the damn door!” A voice from inside the room yelled. “Unless you’re plannin’ to let the whole neighborhood in.”

“Relax, Bert,” Cec said. “It’s just Phryne and Inspector Robinson.”

“Robinson?” Bert said, swiveling away from his computer to face the newcomers. “Whad’ya bring him for?”

“Been asking myself the same thing. Nice to see you Johnson, Yates,” Jack said nodding at each man in turn.

“Been awhile, Jack. How’s things?” Cec said.

“This ain’t a bloody tea party, Cec,” Bert grumbled.

“Great idea. Can I get you guys a cuppa?”

“No thanks, Cec. I think we’d better get straight to it. What have you found?” Phryne asked.

“Wait ‘til you see,” Bert said, smiling for the first time since they entered. “You’re gonna like this. These guys are real scumbags.

“They used aliases, of course, and thought they were in a secure room, but they’re really not that bright. I easily traced the IP addresses and it’s your guys—that Reg Blackstone and Alric’s fancy son-in-law.”

“Branson Street,” Phryne said.

“Do you know that one percent of the population owns about half of the entire world’s wealth?” Bert said. “I’ve half a mind to hack a bank or two and redistribute some of that cash.”

“You do know I’m a cop, right Bert?” Jack said.

Bert ignored him and continued with his demonstration. “I’ve got stuff here on Ray Grimes too. He was definitely working with these guys.”

Phryne leaned in over Bert’s shoulder to read some of what he’d uncovered.

“How did you find all of this?”

“Everything leaves a trace if you know where to look. Even stuff you think you’ve deleted. Sometimes all you need is a bloke’s name. For instance, Robinson here spends a fair amount mapping routes for mountain biking, and,” he said, looking at Jack, while pausing for dramatic effect, “it appears he fancies a certain actress that bears more than a passing resemblance to this one here.” He tilted his head at Phryne.

“Really?” Phryne gushed, curiously. “Who?”

“Again. Cop. Right here. Did you just admit to hacking me?” Jack said.

“It was just a bit of fun. Idle curiosity,” Bert shrugged. “Pretty sure you’ll forget all about it when you see what else I’ve got.”

Jack had most definitely forgot it by the time they left. Bert had put some information on a secure flash drive that Phryne now had in her bag. What it contained left Jack sick to his stomach. He felt a vicious headache coming on.

Phryne looked over at him with concern. They didn’t speak again until they were back at her apartment.

“What are you thinking, Jack?” she said, pressing a beer into his hand. He sat on her couch looking lost.

“I was not prepared for the apparent scope of this.”

“But, you suspected there were people on the inside who were involved.”

“Suspecting it and coming face to face with some pretty damning evidence are two different things. This is corruption of a scale I would never have imagined.”

He stood up, and she watched him pace around the room. After a minute, he stopped and turned to her.

“I should go,” he said.

“Go? Go where?”

“Home. I’ve got a lot to think about—and you should give me that drive,” he said. “It’s not safe for you to keep it.”

“But it’d be safe for you?”

“I’m paid to take those risks.”

“Forget it. I hired Bert and Cec. It’s mine.”

“I thought we were doing this together?”

“So did I, but apparently you’re planning to leave to ‘think about things’ on you own, and take all the evidence with you.”

“Phryne. I don’t think you understand what could happen here. That evidence was illegally obtained and it implicates some powerful people.”

“I was there too, Jack. I saw it and of course I understand the implications. You wouldn’t even have any of this without me!”

“I know that but this is bigger than I thought. This could backfire spectacularly. Even if it goes well, cops will lose their jobs. Some will go to jail. It has to be done carefully. There will be a lot of resentment aimed at the person that brings this to light.”

“Person,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. “Singular? You mean you, Jack. Don’t you?”

“It’s for your own good.”

“You did _not_ just say that. I am not a child who needs looking after.”

“This is my job, Phryne. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”

“Actually, I did. I’m the one that started this! I found the connection, my sources uncovered the evidence of police corruption and I’m the one that found out Angela Connors had a pimp she referred to as Reggie, who I’d put money on being Reg Blackstone.

“I didn’t have to bring any of it to you. In fact, doing so went against how I like to operate, Jack, but I did it, because you’re important to me. You do not get to shut me out of this now.”

“You didn’t tell me about Angela,” he said, accusingly.

“I didn’t get a chance to! And, I haven’t pursued the lead yet, because I was waiting to tell you about it. Partner!” she spat.

That seemed to hit him, but he shook it off.

“If Blackstone had anything to do with Angela’s death that’s all the more reason for you to stay away,” he argued. “These people are dangerous, they’ve already tried to kill you once."

"Not fair, Jack. You don't get to play that card whenever you aren't getting your way."

"I'll play it whenever I need to. You don't understand what I'm up against! I’ve no idea who I can trust.”

“You can trust me! And you’ve got Hugh. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I can’t bring Hugh in! He’s about to get married. I’ve got to think of Dot.”

“Let me get this straight. You want to cut me out for my own safety. You won’t risk Hugh because you’re thinking of his safety, and Dot’s feelings. Where do my feelings come into this? What about your safety? if something happens to you, am I just suppose to be happy that I’m okay? What the hell good is that, if you’re not here with me?”

“Phryne—”

“Don’t give me those ‘Phryne, be reasonable’ eyes. We are either in this together, or online tomorrow, the world will read a scintillating story about celebrated citizens running a crime syndicate and police corruption that will set fire to this town. And my name will be at the top of it.”

“You can’t do that. It’d put you in the crosshairs.”

“That’s exactly what you’re talking about doing. If you think I’d let you do that, anymore than you’d let me, then you’ve underestimated me. You’ve underestimated us.”

They stood facing each other like angry bulls across a field, a unsettled air crackling between them.

His shoulders dropped and he exhaled heavily.

“Damn, woman. What am I going to do with you?”

She cupped his face in her hands and went up onto her toes to press her lips fiercely to his.

“You’ve got time to figure that out, Jack. I’m not going anywhere.”

He rested his forehead against hers, his hands on her hips.

“I just want you to be safe. I need you to be safe.”

“I know, but I need you, too. And you don’t have to take all of this on alone. Isn’t that the point of what we’re doing here?”

“Why is that you keep saying you don’t know how to do this, yet you’re so good at it?”

He slipped his arms around and pulled her to his chest.

“Maybe I’m just a fast learner,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding fast.

“Or, maybe you just don’t do things half way. It shouldn’t surprise me, it’s one of the things I first admired about you.”

“I tried keeping you at arms length. That didn’t go so well,” she said. “You said when we started this that we’re better together and you’re right. We work, Jack. You and I. This is good. Don’t shut me out now.”

“Lucky for me, you won’t let me,” he said.

“We’ll sort it. But we can’t fly off the handle. We need to take a step back and talk about what we’ve got here, because you’re right about the havoc it can wreak. Finish your beer while I get us something to eat.”

He blinked and his lips curved into that little smirk of his she loved so much. He tilted his head.

“You’re not planning to cook for me, are you Fisher?”

“I’m calling out for Chinese, smart-ass.”

* * *

 

“So, how is Sal?” Jack asked as he tucked into his lo mien.

“Formidable,” Phryne said, frowning.

“Saw through you, did she?”

“She told me you vouched for me.”

“What?”

“When I wanted to do that story on exploited girls a couple years back. I got the impression she wouldn’t have talked to me then, if you hadn’t put in a word.”

“I’m sure you’d have eventually won her over,” he shrugged.

“So, you did speak for me? We’d only just met.”

“I had a good feeling about you. And, I’d read some of your stuff.”

“Before or after meeting me?”

“Both. I wouldn’t say I followed your career, or anything, but I knew who you were when we met.”

“You didn’t let on.”

“I suppose I wanted to see if the person matched the writing.”

“And?”

“Surpassed, actually. You cared. Anyone can manufacture outrage on paper to create a good story, but you really cared and you made others care too. I was impressed. Still am.”

“Thank you, Jack.” She smiled at him, and the appreciation in her eyes overwhelmed and embarrassed him.

“Now, what did you learn from Sal?” He said.

“She knew Angela a bit. Tried to help her, but she wasn’t interested. I did get the name of a friend that might be able to identify Angela’s pimp. I thought I’d take a picture of Reg Blackstone to her.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in Bendigo. Wanted to get out of Melbourne, but Sally says she’s still in touch and doing well. She’s got a decent job and she’s getting married in a few months.”

“Will she want to help, do you think? If she identifies Blackstone, we may need her down the road to testify. She might not welcome the intrusion into her new life.”

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, she’s our only lead. I’ll take a drive out to see her tomorrow,” she said. “What are we going to do about the information on that drive?”

“Probably nothing, right away. I’d like to go through it more thoroughly to see if I can positively identify some of the people referenced. I have a fair idea about some of them, but I can’t go accusing anyone until we have other, more legitimate, corroboration.”

“We need to find a weak link to exploit. I’m wondering about Peter Williams, the bartender turned concierge. He didn’t appear in any of the correspondence we saw. Maybe he’s not in too deep yet and could be turned?”

“We can’t exactly go ask him what his involvement is without tipping our hand.”

“Maybe another undercover sting? I could send Dot in this time...”

“Not on your life.” His eyes flashed angrily.

“No. Of course. You’re right.”

“Start with the friend. If we get a positive ID of Blackstone, I may be able to open an official investigation. I’ve got someone I can contact for advice on the apparent police collusion.”

“Who?”

"The previous commissioner and my former boss. He ran a tight ship. This wouldn’t have happened on his watch.”

“Can you trust him?”

“I’ve known him my whole life. He was my dad’s best mate. He’s the reason I became I cop, Phryne,” Jack said. “If I can’t trust Archie, I might as well pack it in right now.”

“How old were you when your dad died?”

“Just turned fourteen. Arch became like a second dad. I went a bit wild. Mum was grieving. She couldn’t handle me. He set me straight. Laid down the law. Archie took good care of us.”

“He didn’t have a family of his own?”

“He never married. He did meet someone rather later in life,” Jack said. “He took a fishing holiday to Echuca and fell in love with a woman that runs holiday cottages by the river. After he retired, he moved there to be with her.”

“What about your mum? She didn’t marry again? She must have been fairly young when your father died.”

“She was, but no. There was never anyone else as far as I knew. John Robinson’s shadow loomed large for her.”

“I wish I’d met your dad and mum,” she said, climbing into his lap.

“So do I. They’d have liked you.” He toyed with a lock of her hair. “Dad in particular, I think.”

“So. This Archie. Do you still see him?”

“We keep in touch. I’ll call him in the morning, get his take on things.”

“Well, then. We both have our morning plans settled. What about tonight? Are you staying?”

“I’d like to,” he said. “If that’s an invitation.”

“It is.” She shifted, bringing one leg around so that she was straddling him in the chair. “It occurs to me, Jack, that we just had what could be considered our first fight.”

“Really? You call that a fight? If it was, you won fairly quickly.”

“That’s because I was right,” she said, fingering the buttons of his shirt. “But, I feel we may have missed an opportunity here.”

“Oh?” He said, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her ever so slightly closer.

“Yes. I’ve heard wonderful things about make-up sex,” she said, grinding her pelvis down on his.

“Make-up sex?” His hands dipped lower to cup her bottom and hold her in place.

“Yes. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. A couple argues. Tempers flare, angry words are said, maybe even tears shed. They’re nearly ripped apart, only to come together again—usually after the man begs forgiveness for his stupidity—and they make mad passionate love to reaffirm their devotion.”

“I didn’t know you read romance novels,” he said, dismissively.

“Are you saying make-up sex is fiction?”

“Not necessarily, it’s the part about the man usually being wrong I take exception to.”

She narrowed her eyes and began to stand up. He pulled her back down.

“However, in this case, I was most definitely wrong and probably a bit stupid as well— but, sweetheart, I don’t need a reason to want to make love to you.”

“No?”

“No.”

He stood up, lifting her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“Tell me where you want me,” he said.

She bit her bottom lip and shivered with the possibilities. Up against a wall. Right here on the table. So many lovely possibilities.

“I think we should start by washing this horrible day off. To the shower, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implications of corruption within the police is purely fictional for the purposes of this story. No disrespect intended.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly make-up sex, but...
> 
> And, Jack worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't post any more chapters until after the weekend, so I wanted to get this relatively short one up today.

Her hands were flat against the tile wall, her legs spread. He was behind her. His feet planted against hers to anchor them both on the wet floor. His soapy hands were around her, as he pressed himself to her backside, hot and hard, sliding over her wet skin. One hand cupped her breast, massaging rhythmically as his mouth moved over her neck.

Warm water fell over them like rain from a shower head mounted in the ceiling. Steam billowed, filling the glass enclosed space. Through the fog she could just make out their hazy figures in the mirror.

They looked good together. His taut, sinewy frame wrapped around her lithe and nubile body. It was incredibly erotic. She felt the familiar and welcome heat of desire coiling in her belly.

“This is a terrible waste of water,” he said.

Her bubble burst and she hung her head. This was not the moment for his dry, irreverent humor. He could be such an irritating ass at times.

“Are you seriously worrying about conservation right now?” She complained.

“We must take care of our planet, Fisher.”

“I’d rather you take care of me, inspector. The planet can wait.”

She grabbed his hand, moving it down her body and placing it between her thighs.

“Do you need further instruction, Jack?”

“No, love. I got this.”

* * *

 

They fell into the sheets, still damp from the shower. Their attempts to dry each other were cut short when Jack had put Phryne over his shoulder.

This came after she’d reached a certain part of his anatomy and quipped, “I find myself tempted to hang a towel on this, Jack. Unless you have a better use for it.”

He carried her, like a sack of flour, into the bedroom and dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. She bounced up once, laughing, and then gasped as he covered her body and entered her with one swift, and rather impatient, thrust.

“Oh, yes. That’s a much better idea. I do like the way you think,” she moaned.

He took hold of her hands, placing them on either side of her head, lacing his fingers through hers. He looked into her eyes.

“Please stop talking now, and let me fuck you.”

Then he did something with his hips that made her see stars.

“Ohh, yes. Jack. That’s so good, but if I might make a sugges—”

She found herself face down in her pillow.

“I did ask nicely first,” he said. He was on his knees, pulling her hips up off the mattress. She bent to position herself better, breathless with anticipation. His broad hand encircled the back of her neck and then dragged maddeningly slowly, along her spine.

Every nerve ending in her body screamed. She was wound tight, desperate for some relief and a little concerned by how quickly he managed to get her to this point.

“Please, Jack,” she said.

“Gorgeous,” he replied, giving her ass a soft pat. His hands gripped her hips and he was inside her again, hitting that spot too few men had been able to reach.

She bit down on a knuckle to keep from crying out, her last coherent thought was of how much she loved this man.

* * *

 

“What have you done with my bones?”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re utterly useless, Jack. Turned to jelly.”

He snorted. “Do you flatter all your men this way?”

“All my men?” She rolled onto her side to face him.

“That came out wrong.” He caressed her cheek, “It’s just, well, you say these things, and you make me feel as though—do I really make you feel that good? I do try to please you, but sometimes, I have to admit to losing myself a bit and getting caught up in my own pleasure. You are so incredible.”

“You do please me,” she said. “I’m not falsely flattering you. That’s not my style. I love being with you.”

“I love being with you, too. And, I don’t just mean sex. You make me very happy.”

“I’m glad. You make me happy, too,” She curled into him and he lay back, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her up to rest her head on his chest.

“Thank you for earlier.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “What exactly are you thanking me for?”

“You didn’t let me leave. I’m not used to that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“That kind of support. I’m not used to having someone so completely in my corner. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m young to have made chief inspector.”

“I do know. But it’s not surprising. You’re brilliant, Jack. I covered stories involving the police before we met, so I have had interactions with other detectives. You stand out, and I’m not just flattering you.”

“Not everyone thought it was so wholly deserved. I was assigned to City South ahead of others that had been there longer. It made for a less than harmonious workplace for awhile.”

“You had to prove yourself.”

“Let’s just say I couldn’t be anyone’s friend. I had to hold myself apart, set higher standards. They were looking for weakness.”

“Must have been lonely.” Her hand made small circles over his chest and abdomen.

“Mmmm,” he affirmed, “I love my work, and I’m good at it, which was some consolation, but yes, it could be lonely.”

He didn’t add that he’d had no support at home at the time, since Jo thought changing the subject, so as ‘not to dwell’ was more helpful. She was right that talking it to death wasn’t productive, but a little sympathy and understanding might have been nice.

“Is it better?”

“I think I’ve developed a reputation for being firm but fair. I’m respected.”

“But, not necessarily liked.”

“That’s not important.”

“You’ve got Hugh,” she offered.

“When he was assigned to the station I’d been told he was an up and comer, but at first I thought he was too naive to truly succeed in this business. His moral code is rather black and white. I was afraid he’d become disillusioned, but he’s tougher than I thought. He was so determined and quick to learn. Kept at me about more responsibility and proved himself incredibly capable.”

“He looks up to you.”

“He’s a good cop and a good friend.”

“And he’s trustworthy. He’d want to help with this, Jack. You know he would. He won’t appreciate being left in the dark.”

She raised her head to look at him. He nodded.

“He’ll take this hard,” he said. “It has to be his decision to get involved and I want a fuller picture before I tell him.”

“I want to bring Dot in,” she said. She’d been thinking about it since she’d showed Jack that file. She always worked with Dot and this didn’t feel right.

“I don’t know, Phryne.”

“I’m not really asking. She’s a damn good investigator and I’ve never left her out of anything before. She might find something we’ve missed.”

“But, don't show her what we got from Cec and Bert. Please? Not yet, anyway. I don’t want Hugh to hear about that from anyone but me.”

“Alright. For now we work the other angle. We know what to look for now, I’m sure we can find some solid evidence of what’s going on in that hotel. Once you can bring someone in and officially start asking questions, we’ll crack this wide open.”

“People are going to try to stop us. They’ll try to shut this down, you have to be prepared for that.”

“But if we find evidence of criminal activity, they can’t cover it up. Especially if I can get some of it out through the media.”

She was so excited. She had her teeth in this and she wouldn’t let go and it scared the hell out of him. They’d just found each other again. Couldn’t they get a moment’s peace to enjoy that?

“We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” she said, confused. “What’s the matter, Jack?”

“Nothing,” he pulled her to him. Nothing but the possibility it all blew up and he lost his position, or worse yet, her. “We should get some sleep.”

She turned so they could spoon, sighing happily.

Jack buried his nose in her hair, closed his eyes and inhaled. He loved the way she smelled, it was intoxicating and always sent a pleasant spark thorough his body. This time a shred of anxiety accompanied that rush and settled uneasily in his gut.

“I love you, Phryne,” he said, ardently.

“I love you, too.” She smiled.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some details about the case and police corruption start to come to light.

Jack couldn’t sleep. He crept from the bed quietly, taking pains not to wake Phryne, who seemed to be sleeping completely unburdened. She slept the way she lived—all in.

He envied her that ability. He didn’t think she took things less seriously, but she had a way of living in the moment. She didn’t let things hang on her the way he did, and as a result, she slept deeply and peacefully.

At times, that ability made her a less than optimal bed partner.

He’d often wake and find himself on the edge of the mattress because she’d spread herself wantonly, leaving little room for him. He’d nudge her gently and she’d shift herself over, grumbling adorably.

Now, as he slipped gently from the bed, she seemed to sense the suddenly vacated space and rolled onto her stomach, into the middle of the mattress, her arms reaching up to pull her pillow in close. He bent to kiss her bared shoulder lightly, pulled on his briefs, and tiptoed from the room.

He fired up her laptop and logged in as a guest. He had a fleeting impulse to try to guess her password, not so much to snoop, but more to see if he knew her well enough to succeed, but that was a boundary he’d never breach.

Besides, he had more important things on his mind.

He inserted the flash drive and used the code to unlock it.

* * *

Several hours later, Jack stood in front of the bulletin board Phryne used when storyboarding. It was covered with a labyrinth of multi-colored post-it notes—scribblings he thought pertinent to their investigation.

He’d started a list of the cases he’d felt had been under-investigated. Another list contained instances of items that had gone missing from the evidence locker—drugs, paraphernalia and the odd firearm.

He had his mobile tucked into the waistband of his boxer briefs, earbuds in, _I want to Break Free_ by Queen blaring. He jumped when he felt her hand cup his ass, and yanked the buds from his ears.

“Sorry,” she said, kissing his shoulder blade. “Christ, Jack! You’re freezing! How long have you been up?”

She briskly rubbed her hands up and down his arms to warm him. One look at the work he’d done answered her question. She stepped around him to get a closer look.

“You’ve been busy.”

“I owe you some post-its,” he said, when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Go put on a shirt. I’ll start some coffee, and you can walk me through this,” she said, yawning.

He checked the time. “It’s four in the morning. You should go back to bed.”

She looked from him, to the wall, and back again.

“I’ll make you a deal. How about we both go back to bed for awhile and take this up again at a more civilized hour,” she took his hand and led him back to the bedroom.

Jack didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but once he was tucked up next to her warm body—and after she’d complained loudly about his cold feet— he’d quickly drifted off. When he woke again, the room was light and he was alone in the bed.

He found Phryne in her office and stopped in the doorway to look at her. She was curled up in her desk chair, her knees pulled up, her arms encircling them, her eyes on the bulletin board. She’d pulled her hair back in a messy bun, held up with a pencil stuck through it.

For a second he wished she was not such a clever, curious and determined woman. That they could be a normal couple with a normal jobs, talking about boring things, like annoying coworkers or home improvement projects. Not drugs, murder, human trafficking and corrupt cops.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked.

“I was going to give you another half hour. You needed your sleep,” she said, turning to smile at him. She turned back to the board. “How many of your fellow officers would have to be involved if all of these instances are connected?”

“Hard to say,” he said. “I’m going to start by taking a look at the duty logs and see who was on when those items went missing from evidence. I’d really like to believe it’s not more than a few bad apples.”

“And these cases? What’s the significance there?”

“Those are cases that I felt got too little attention and fit into our perimeters—drugs or prostitution or are connected in any way to the hotel. Cases we were pressured to move quickly on, or that wrapped up a little too neatly. They’re probably not all related to this, but I’ll have a better idea once I can get into the station and look at the precinct files.”

“Why don’t you log in remotely?” she said, spinning toward her desk and pulling her laptop open. He stepped forward, closing it again.

“After talking to your friends yesterday, I don’t want to risk doing anything that might lead back to you. In fact, I’m thinking we should stay off of computers as much as possible when communicating. We’ll have to go old school on this.”

“Carrier pigeon perhaps, or shall we develop a secret code?” she teased.

"Just as little in writing as possible," he said. "And speaking of codes. I’m pretty sure my boss has got his fingerprints all over this. Quite a few of the messages refer to someone they call ‘the Scot.’ That’s got to be Commissioner Johnston.”

“The scot?”

“He’s always going on about his Scottish ancestry. Even has a family crest hanging in his office. Apparently the name was originally Johnstone. He claims that one of his ancestors was a leader in the fight for independence and that William Wallace himself gave him a castle or something. He likes to talk about it. A lot. It’s a bit of a joke among the men.”

“Isn’t Robinson a Scottish name too?”

“Dad’s family was English, but maybe, somewhere back in history, my ancestor shoveled shit from Johnston’s ancestor’s stables,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

She was glad he was able to keep a sense of humor about all of this. “I notice you’ve got Grimes on here,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, “He’s how we got started down this road.”

“I know you don’t think he killed himself, but I really don’t know much other than that. I’ve only heard the official statement that’s been put out,” she said.

They seemed to avoid talking about that case. It brought up too many bad memories.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, softly.

“You implied—that morning you took my statement—that you didn’t think you’d be able to hold him on my testimony, and that he’d denied supplying me with any drugs, but what about the drugs he supplied for Kit Wainscot? Would you have gotten him on that?”

“Doubtful. He claimed Kit asked him to have the pills picked up from the pharmacy and delivered to his room. Said it was all above board and just part of his job. The prescribing doctor backed up the story, saying he prescribed the Hydrocodone for Wainscot’s chronic pain. Cummings switching the pills muddied the water considerably and Wainscot wasn’t around to confirm or deny any of it.”

“How did they explain the false name?”

“Grimes said he assumed Kit wanted to keep his drug use out of the public eye. Said it was his job as a concierge to be discreet and not ask too many questions.”

“So they had answers for everything. Until I came sniffing around and they panicked. But I let my guard down, making me too unreliable a witness, so he’d have gotten away with that, too.”

“Right, the only thing I had tying him to your abduction was a grainy shot of a shoe on the video. He had similar shoes, but they weren’t anything unique enough to hang a conviction on.”

He couldn’t help but notice how they both skirted around how precarious her position had really been. He shouldn’t do that, he thought. It would be dangerous to let himself forget how close he’d come to losing her.

“But, if he was going to walk anyway, why did they kill him?”

“I think he became too much of a liability. He’d messed up when he agreed to provide you with the drugs. Then he messed up again when you lived.”

She could still see in his eyes what her foolishness had cost him. She reached up to stroke his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I should never have gone behind your back. Everything was such a mess and you wouldn’t see me. I thought if I could get in the middle of things, you couldn’t keep ignoring me.”

“You were trying to get my attention?”

“I don’t know if it was a conscious decision, but yes, I think that was part of it.”

“You didn’t have to go to such lengths. I’d have come around, you know. I couldn’t have stayed away. It was a close thing, though, Phryne. Don’t ever do that again.”

She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard and that moment in the ambulance, when she’d reached for him and he’d been there, came to mind. Their eyes held for a long moment, before he turned his attention back to the board.

“So, what now? Do we dig into the commissioner?” she said, moving on. “I still don’t understand his motivation. Is he getting paid? Or maybe blackmailed? And why did he put you on the Wainscot case? Wouldn’t it have made sense to use someone more—malleable?”

“Good question. I did think, at the time, that the assignment was a test of my loyalties, and then, the investigation took an unexpected turn,” he said. “Maybe he had a plan that didn’t come to fruition.”

“A plan to compromise you?”

“Possibly,” he shrugged, “it doesn’t really matter now. Wainscot’s murder was solved quickly and that brought us some good publicity. Whatever he may have had planned, I think he’s dropped it.”

“If he is being blackmailed, maybe he assigned you in the hopes you’d find a way to shut these guys down.”

“I think that’s more your faith in me talking, than his,” Jack snorted.

“You really don’t think much of the man, do you?”

“I thought he got his position because of his connections. Cronyism rather than competence. I’ve always thought he was too solicitous to outside influence and sucked up to money and power, but I never suspected him of something like this.”

 “I could put Bert and Cec on to him. Find out if he’s made any unusually large bank deposits.”

“Keep a limited scope for now, okay? No hacking of personal stuff. Just have them look for more references to ‘the scot’ and see if they can find anything that would confirm his identity, or any references to other people we might be able to identify. But, make sure they understand the risks. Maybe they would rather steer clear of all of this.”

“I think they understand already, Jack. They can make up their own minds. I’ll stop by on my way to Bendigo. I need to follow up with that friend of Angie’s.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “And I really should get ready for work. Mind if I have a quick rinse?”

“You don’t need to ask. I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee.”

Twenty minutes later he filled a travel mug, kissed her goodbye and headed out, passing Dot Williams in the hall.

“Good Morning, Jack!” she said, cheerfully, smiling widely. He felt himself blush, slightly. Not out of embarrassment, but more because she was so obviously pleased for him and Phryne and he felt so happy himself. This constant flood of emotions was a little swamping.

“Morning, Dot,” he said, smiling shyly.

It wasn’t until he was in the elevator heading down that he remembered that Phryne would be letting Dot in on things today. With what he’d left all over her office, it would be hard to keep her out of it now. He decided he needed to bring Hugh in sooner rather than later.

He half hoped his friend would want no part of this and would remove his fiancée from the whole thing as well.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team comes together. Phryne and Jack struggle to combine their private life and their work.

“So, what exactly am I looking for?” Bert asked.

Phryne had left Dot digging through the evidence they’d collected, hoping fresh eyes would find something they’d missed, while she headed out to follow up on other leads.

“See if you can find any more references to someone they call ‘the scot.’ That might be code for the deputy commissioner and we need something that will confirm his identity.”

Bert whistled. “Alright, but just how important to you is that boyfriend of yours?”

“You mean Jack?”

“Yeah. How’s lover boy going to feel about us going after a top cop?”

“Jack doesn’t have a problem with this,” she said, a little defensively.

“Really? He knows what you’re asking us to do?”

“Of course.”

Bert and Cec exchanged a look.

“I know it’s illegal, but Jack wants to get to the bottom of this as much as I do and he can’t very well march into Johnston’s office and ask him about it.”

“It’s not just that it’s illegal, Phryne,” Cec said. “There’s a code. Cops are expected to stand together.”

“I know that,” she said, “but we’re talking about crooked cops.”

“Even so, there will be plenty that won’t look kindly on one cop turning in another,” Cec said.

“Won’t look kindly?” Bert repeated. “You’re putting it mildly, mate. They’ll be out for blood.”

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to, I’ll understand, but we intend to find out what’s going on here,” she said defiantly, although, for the first time, it began to sink in just what Jack’s situation might be. This could cost him the respect and trust he’d worked so hard to earn, or worse, his career.

That put her in a sour mood and her trip to Bendigo didn’t help much. Angela’s friend had reluctantly talked to her, but was clear that she wouldn’t make an official statement or testify.

“Angie’s dead,” she said. “Nothing I say is going to bring her back.”

“But, if we could find the men responsible? Wouldn’t you want to see justice served?”

“Reg was arrested before. Nothing came of that.”

“Well, his information helped the police to shut down that ring,” Phryne offered, knowing it was a weak argument.

“He just opened for business again though, didn’t he? While they turned a blind eye. Look, I’m doing well here and I don’t want to get dragged back into this. Angie was a sweet girl. She deserved better, but the police didn’t care about it any of this before, I don’t see how it’s going to help now.”

“You talked to the police about this?”

“Yeah, I did! The day after Angie died. I went into the station myself, told them she was working for Reg. They took my statement and sent me on my way.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“I don’t know. Some uniform. He spent all of five minutes with me. Said he’d pass the information along to the investigating officer and someone would be in touch. No one ever was. Imagine my surprise,” she said, bitterly.

“You’re sure it was Blackstone that Angela was working for? May I ask what makes you so certain?”

“Because I worked for him too. That’s how I met Angie.”

“Did you work out of the Alric hotel?”

“No. That was for his younger girls," she snorted.

“But, the hotel was a frequent site of Angie’s dates, wasn’t it?”

“The hotel, and other upscale clubs around town. It seems Reg got himself a partner, and suddenly had a much wealthier clientele that wanted a certain look. He even bought Angie some real nice clothes to wear.”

“Do you know who this partner was?”

“Not a clue.”

“What about Branson Street or Ray Grimes. Do those names sound familiar?”

“Never heard ‘em. Look, I’m sorry for what happened to Angie, but I’m out of that life now and I’d like it to stay that way. I’ve told you all I know.”

Phryne thanked the woman and heading home frustrated. It seemed that once Jack had been replaced, there’d been little to no investigating done before a determination of accidental death was made. Just as Jack had said would happen.

They were pulling together more bits and pieces, but the information they’d gathered was of little use in bringing charges. Without any official statement, they didn’t even have enough to bring Blackstone in for questioning.

It all made for a sensational story that she might be able to write, but none of it would do Jack any good.

She pressed the button to activate her car’s voice controls and called Dot.

* * *

 

That evening, a motley crew gathered around Phryne’s kitchen table at her request. Two officers of the law, two admitted hackers and two investigative journalists.

Also, at Phryne’s request, Cec and Bert had arrived with burner phones for everyone, so they could keep in contact without their conversations being traced back to them.

Jack thought it all a bit cloak and dagger, but oddly exhilarating.

He’d brought Hugh up to speed that morning. He’d said he wasn’t ordering, or even expecting him to become involved, but since Dot was undoubtedly hearing everything from Phryne, he couldn’t, in good conscious, leave his friend in the dark.

Not surprisingly Hugh was at first disillusioned and angry, but a few hours later he’d walked into Jack’s office and stood at attention in front of the desk.

“I’m in, sir,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

There’d been a flurry of activity, from several corners, all day, and the confab in the kitchen was to bring everyone up to speed on what had been learned.

Dot had spent the day trying to connect some of the cases Jack had singled out with mentions of ‘the Scot’ in the intercepted conversations. In many of those cases, these mentions coincided with an abrupt end to an investigation, or in crucial evidence being mishandled. If Johnston was indeed ‘the Scot,’ he was in this up to his eyebrows.

Jack and Hugh had identified three officers at City South that had access to the evidence room at the times items had disappeared. Jack found some consolation in the small number, but they didn’t know which of the men was the culprit, or if he was working on his own, or under Johnston’s orders.

The most damning piece of evidence came from Cec and Bert. They’d taken things a step further than simply hacking online conversations, and had found their way into some encrypted files.

Blackstone and Street had kept lists of the people that availed themselves of their services. An electronic black book. It didn’t take much imagination to realize what they were doing. With what they’d collected, they had the means to blackmail some powerful people.

“This would cause quite a stir if it gets out,” Cec said.

“I say we just leak the lot of it online,” Bert said. “These assholes made their bed.”

“That may be, but all we have here are some dates and names—sometimes just initials,” Phryne said. “These people most likely have families, children. I want to shut these guys down, but I’m not interested in destroying a lot of lives.”

“Well, what are we hoping to accomplish here, if not to expose this?” Bert said.

“Some exposure is inevitable, and Bert’s right, they made their bed,” Jack said. “But it’s the most culpable that I’m interested in. Blackstone, Street and anyone else working with them. And, for the record, that includes any cops that have been colluding with these men, no matter how high it goes.”

“Is there anyone you trust to take this information to?” Dot asked. “Any way to open an official investigation?”

“We can’t reopen Angela’s case on what we have. Even if we could get an official statement from her friend, I don’t think it’d be enough,” Hugh said. “And the rest of this? Illegally obtained and inadmissible.”

“I don’t need an open investigation to do a story, though,” Phryne said. “I’ll go to Blackstone with what I’ve learned and ask for comment.”

“He’ll just deny it,” Dot argued.

“Then, I’ll pay him a visit,” Jack said. “I’ll say we’re reopening the investigation into Angela Connor’s death based on new information that implicates him.”

“But, Hugh just said you can’t do that,” Phryne argued.

“Blackstone won’t know that. He doesn’t know what we have, or what we can or cannot do with it,” Jack said. “Can you monitor phone conversations in real time?” He asked Bert and Cec.

“Sure,” Cec said. “We’ve already hacked their phones.”

“You want to draw them out, see how fast ol’ Reggie contacts his partners after your little chat,” Bert said, catching on.

“And how soon Johnston gets wind of it,” Jack confirmed.

“You’re putting a target on your back,” Phryne seethed. “Both professionally and personally.”

“We’ve to to do something. We’ve got too many people digging around in this now. They’re bound to get wind of it. It’s better if _we_ dictate when that happens.”

“I don’t like it,” Phryne said.

“Anyone got a better idea?” Jack said.

It seemed no one did.

“‘I’ll go with you,” Hugh said.

“No,” Jack said. “I need you at the station keeping an eye on things there.”

“You’re just trying to shield me, Jack,” he complained.

“I’m not, Hugh. Not entirely. I really do need you at the station. I’ve a feeling after I talk to Blackstone, someone on the inside will start snooping around to try to find out what I’ve got. Who do you think they’ll come asking?”

“Your right hand man,” Phryne said, looking at Hugh.

“And, if they do? What am I to tell them?” Hugh asked.

“That you don’t know a thing. There’s no reason for us both to stick our necks out, but this way, we might find out who is crooked within the department.”

* * *

 

“What’s the endgame of your little chat with Blackstone?” Phryne asked later, as they undressed for bed. “Because, we might draw them out, but in the process I see you getting suspended or worse, them coming after you.”

“If either of those things happen then at least we’ll know were on the right track,” he said.

“Don’t be glib.”

She had her hands on her hips now. He tried to appease her.

“I really don’t think they’ll try to shut me down right away. They’ll want to know what I’ve got on them first.”

“Do you have any plan to protect yourself other than this vague hope?”

“I’ll give the superintendent a head’s up. If my preliminary questioning of a potential suspect results in word coming from on high to shut it all down, that should raise a red flag. Blackstone is nobody. If the commissioner, or anyone else, goes out of their way to protect him, it will look suspicious.”

“Can you trust the superintendent?”

“Archie seems to think so,” he said. “He’s also pretty sure this doesn’t go all the way to the Chief Commissioner. He said the man’s straight as an arrow.”

“Let me go with you tomorrow. If Blackstone knows the press has wind of the story, and that it’s bigger than just you, he’ll know that getting rid of you won’t be enough to stop it.”

Jack shook his head.

“Jack. Look at this logically! Think of me as your partner, not your lover. It’ll be a hell of a lot harder for them to shut up both of us without drawing suspicion.”

“You’re not my ‘lover’, Phryne. You’re the woman I love. I won’t risk you.”

“And I won’t risk you. We can’t keep having this same argument every time we’re on a case, or I don’t see how this works,” she said.

“Not all of our cases will be this dicey,” he argued.

“But, when they are, we should provide cover for each other. You know it makes sense!”

He stubbornly refused to answer her and left the room. She sat stewing for a minute, then followed him into the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth.

“You know I could just tell Bert and Cec to release what we have and they’d do it in a second,” she said.

Their eyes met in the mirror. He wiped his mouth on a towel and turned to her. His calm was a little unsettling, because she knew she’d hit a nerve.

“You can’t keep threatening to undermine me and expect me to continue to trust you,” he said, coldly, tossing the towel down on the countertop with a bit too much force.

“Then act like you trust me in the first place and I won’t have to!”

He huffed, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders to try to release some tension.

“I do trust you, Phryne. I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I. Why do you keep insisting on doing things alone?”

He walked into the bedroom with her on his heels. He sat down heavily on the bed, looking up at her, obviously conflicted. She came to a stop in front of him. It was so hard for her to stay angry with him these days. She ran her hand through his hair.

“Why do you keep insisting on doing things alone, Jack?”

He smiled ruefully, placing his hands on her hips and drawing her in between his knees.

“If you were to be there, how would I explain your presence?” He asked.

“We can tell him I’m the one making the accusations. I brought what I’d uncovered to the police and you’re offering him a chance to refute my claims before opening an official investigation.”

“So, our visit is more of a courtesy call than an official inquiry?”

“Exactly.”

It had merit. I would still serve to put them on notice and make Blackstone reach out to his partners, but it would provide cover for Jack with the brass. He’d look like he was being methodical and fair, not jumping the gun. But, it would bring attention to her and he didn’t like that one bit.

“Alright,” he said, releasing her, “but, we’re doing this safely. I don’t want you going home after the interview. I want you somewhere they can’t find you.”

“Home is the safest place for me,” she said, moving out from between his legs and crawling into bed. “You don’t really think anyone is getting past Mr. B. down there, do you?

“Mr. B.? Your doorman? He’s going to keep you safe?”

“Don’t underestimate Tobias Butler, Jack. Not too many people know this, but the man worked for ASIS in a previous life.”

“Are you saying your doorman was an agent of the Australian Secret Intelligence Service?”

“He wasn’t just an office clerk either,” she said cryptically.

“And now he’s a doorman?”

“A concierge, Jack. He wanted a quiet retirement, and apparently the pension isn’t that great. This way he gets to live in a very nice building that he couldn’t otherwise afford.”

“You’re pulling my chain.”

“I’m not. In fact, I think you should move in here until this thing is done. Your house isn’t at all secure.”

“This is insane.”

“That it is, darling. Now, we should get some sleep. Come here,” she said, pulling the covers back. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

Phryne paced the floor in her apartment, stopping every few minutes to check the burner phone to see if she’d missed a message from Jack.

“Sit down and drink your tea,” Dot said. “Nothing’s going to happen this fast.”

Phryne wasn’t so sure about that. Blackstone didn’t seem to be the brightest bulb and, though he’d denied the allegations, he’d shown signs of stress almost immediately. She didn’t think he’d sit quiet for long.

Had he been truly innocent, he’d at least have expressed a moments confusion. There was nothing tying him to Angela Connors at the time of his initial arrest, or at the time of her death. There was no reason for him to have even been familiar with her name. A smarter man would have played that angle, at least until he could determine just what this policeman and reporter confronting him really knew.

Instead he’d become belligerent. Threatening to sue Phryne for libel and bring a complaint about Jack to his superiors.

“I’m just following up on allegations that have been made. No one is accusing you of anything here,” Jack said.

“I am,” Phryne countered, ignoring Jack’s stern side-eye. “I’ve got a reliable source. This isn’t only about one girl’s death more than two years ago. That’s just the tip of this iceberg.”

“What source?” Blackstone bellowed. “You don’t know what you’re messing in, either of you. I’ll set lawyers on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

“What is your occupation these days, Mr. Blackstone,” Jack replied, solicitously. “I’m sure we can sort this all out quite easily with a word to your employers. Is there someone that can confirm your daily routine and whereabouts? Especially in those first months after you were released from prison. In the timeframe of Ms. Fisher’s allegations regarding that unfortunate girl’s death.”

“Why should I cooperate with you? You’ve no right to ask me anything. I’m not on parole.”

“What are you hiding, Reg?” Phryne taunted.

“Please, Ms. Fisher,” Jack chided. “I brought you along as a courtesy, but I can’t have you badgering Mr. Blackstone this way. The police are here to help you, Mr. Blackstone.”

“That’s not been my experience,” he snorted.

“You helped us before, and as far as we’re concerned, you’ve paid your debt. You’re absolutely correct in saying you aren’t required to talk to me, but I thought you might like the opportunity to refute this woman’s claims.”

“What exactly are her claims,” he said. “Who’s been telling these tales on me? You tell me that, and maybe I’ll be more interested in talking to you.”

“I’m not going to reveal my source,” Phryne said, “It would put them in danger.”

“From me?” Blackstone said. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. I’d never hurt a fly.”

“I’m not so worried about you, personally,” Phryne said. “You don’t hold any real power. You’re just a cog. It’s the people you answer to that are of concern.”

“I answer to no one! I don’t know what you’re on about. I deny all of these trumped up allegations. I’m not saying another word. And, believe me, both your bosses will be hearing about this harassment.”

“Let’s hope his bosses will hear of it too,” Phryne muttered as he stalked off. “That went well, don’t you think?”

“Not bad.”

“You make an excellent ‘good’ cop,” she said, linking her arm through his as they made their way back to her car.

“I thought that’s what you were going for when you started baiting him,” Jack said. “I wish you hadn’t made him quite so angry with you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll head straight home and stay there until I hear from you. You’re going right to the station, aren’t you?”

“After I drop you at your door and see you safely inside. Are you sure your building is secure?”

“Absolutely. I expect you there right after your shift ends.”

When they got to her building, she leaned across the seat and kissed him.

“You call me as soon as you hear something. Understand?”

“Yes, dear.”

She’d barely gotten in the door of her apartment when Cec called. Apparently, within minutes of leaving Phryne and Jack, Blackstone had phoned Street.

“All he said was that they might have a problem. That a reporter and detective were sniffing around. He used your names. Street told him to sit tight and he’d look into it. No mention of Johnston, or anyone else, and nothing since then. If Street contacted anyone, he didn’t use any means of communication we’re watching. Sorry. Wish we had more.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Cec. Keep listening, yeah?”

“We’re on it. No worries.”

That was nearly two hours ago now, and there’d be no further word from that end, and nothing yet from Jack.

Maybe Street hadn’t taken Blackstone seriously. He seemed the type to overreact, perhaps he’d cried wolf before.

They couldn’t go back to Blackstone again, they didn’t really have anything on the man. They’d played their hand and it had gotten them nothing. This was all going to fizzle and die.

Her phone rang. Not the burner, but her regular mobile. The number that flashed up was unfamiliar.

“Hello,” she said.

“Ms. Fisher?” a female voice on the other end said.

“Yes.”

“Ms. Fisher, this is Maria Benz. Constable Benz at City South? Do you remember me?”

“Oh, of course I do, constable, and I believe I told you to call me Phryne. What can I do for you?”

She put the phone on speaker, setting it on the table so Dot could listen in.

“You’re a friend of Chief Inspector Robinson, aren’t you?”

The girl’s tone was timid and tentative and she seemed to be trying to keep her voice low.

“I am. Did he ask you to call me?” The hairs on the back of Phryne’s neck had pricked up. “Is something wrong, Maria?”

“Maybe not, but I thought it odd.”

“What’s odd,” Phryne said, trying to keep her voice level and friendly.

“I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, here,” Maria mumbled, almost as if to herself.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you and we can decide what the right thing is together?”

“There are some strange things going on here today. A friend of the family just called and asked me to try to get into the inspector’s office to see if I can find out what he’s been working on. He often asks me how things are going, even inquiring after Inspector Robinson—normal stuff, like what kind of boss he is—but this was the first time he’s asked me to do something like this.”

“Who is this friend?” Phryne said, though she suspected she knew.

“Deputy Commissioner Johnston. He's my godfather, actually. Nobody here knows, not even the inspector. I didn’t want to be treated differently.”

 _Commendable of the girl_ , Phryne thought, and convenient for Johnston. He had his own little spy at the station and even she was unaware of her purpose.

“Did you do as he asked?”

“No. I told him I was uncomfortable with the idea. I’m new here and, well, the CI is a good boss.”

“I think you did the right thing,” Phryne said. “It wasn’t fair of him to put you in that position. Did he say why he wanted to know what the inspector was working on? I’d have thought he could simply ask himself.”

“He thinks that someone here might be working outside of proper procedures, might even be involved in something illegal, but I told him it couldn’t be Robinson. Inspector Robinson’s almost too straight, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Phryne said, even managing a little laugh. At least they now knew that their stunt this morning had shaken things loose. “But, why are you coming to me with this?”

“Well, I got to thinking. Why had Uncle Bill called when he did? How did he even know Inspector Robinson was out of his office?”

“Jack’s not at the station?”

“No. A call came in from Melbourne East requesting assistance. A man with a gun had taken people hostage at a diner. Inspector Robinson took the call himself. My boyfriend is at East. So I phoned him to see what he knew about the hostage situation. It was the first he’d heard of it.”

“That is odd. Where is this diner?”

“I didn’t catch the name, but it’s somewhere near the Flinders Street Railway Station.”

Sally’s place was not far from there. Blackstone must have assumed his accuser was one of Sally’s girls, maybe even guessed which one, and had gone looking for her.

“Did Jack—Inspector Robinson go alone?”

“He took Sergeant Collins with him.”

Phryne felt anxiety rising, but one look at Dot’s wide and terrified eyes made her calm herself.

“Something just doesn’t feel right,” Maria said. “A call from Melbourne East that Melbourne East doesn’t seem to know about. Then, Uncle Bill thinking we’ve got a crooked cop and asking me to go through the inspectors office just as the CI steps out.

“Am I overreacting?” she continued, “I don’t want to raise any unnecessary alarms, but if someone here is crooked...I knew you’d worked the crime beat, and you’re the CI’s friend. I was hoping you’d know who I can talk to. Should I mention it to one of the Senior Sergeants?”

“I think you have very good instincts, Maria. And, for your own sake, I don’t think you should tell anyone else what you’ve just told me. Let me look into this. Just go back to work and behave as normal.”

“You think something’s wrong too, don’t you?”

“Possibly, but try not to worry. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“I hope everything is alright. I like Inspector Robinson. He’s a good boss.”

“I like him too. Thank you so much for calling me.”

Phryne hung up and immediately started dialing Bert.

“Wait!” Dot cried. “Use the other phone!”

She nodded, picking up her burner phone.

“Have you heard anything on that scanner of yours about an ongoing hostage situation? Man with a gun?”

“No. All’s quiet today.”

“Trace Jack’s phone. I need to know where he is this minute.”

“We don’t get involved in domestic squabbles,” Bert cracked.

“I don’t have time for your cheek, Bert! Do it! And text me the address.”

She grabbed her jacket shoving both phones into her pockets and flew out the door. Dot followed.

“You’re staying here,” Phryne said, stopping her.

“The hell I am,” Dot said.

As it turned out, neither of them was going anywhere. When they reached the lobby their path was blocked by Tobias Butler.

“Where are you off to today, Ms. Fisher?” he asked, cheerfully.

“I have to go out, Tobias. I’m sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

He grabbed hold of her arm. “I can’t let you leave. I have my orders.”

“Orders? From who?”

“Inspector Robinson contacted me not long ago and told me that under no circumstances was I to let you leave here.”

“How do you plan to stop me?”

“Well, for one thing, the door is locked from the inside, and only I have the key.”

“This is crazy! You’ve got to let me go. Jack and Hugh are in danger!”

“Is this about the call he’s just gone on?” he asked, calmly.

“How do you know about that?”

“The inspector had his suspicions about it. That’s why he called me. He was afraid it’s a trap and that they might try to lure you out as well.”

“His suspicions were correct,” she cried. “It is a trap and we need to help him.”

“With all due respect, there isn’t anything you could do at this point other than put yourself in danger. I’ve made some calls. Help should be on the way to him already. The best thing you can do now is stay here, where you’re safe, and wait.”

“Wait?” She barked. “Wait for what? Who have you sent to help? Do you know where he is?”

“Last word was the gunman had fled the diner and was being pursued in the surrounding area. Inspector Robinson left the station nearly forty-five minutes ago. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”

Her phone vibrated and she saw a text from Bert listing Jack’s location as being near Flinders Street.

She texted Bert back.

_— Can you track his movements?_

A minute later he sent her a link to a site that showed Jack’s location as a small red dot. It would move when he did. It was pulsing in the general area of the railway station relay hub.

“Hugh’s with him,” Dot said reassuringly. “They’ll look out for each other.”

The next few minutes were interminable. Dot sat fretting on the bench by the elevator. Phryne paced like a caged lion, her eyes glued to her phone and that little red glowing dot. A few other residents came and went from the lobby. Mr. Butler cheerfully opened the door and greeted them with his usual congeniality. The man was unflappable.

Finally, Phryne cried out. “He’s moving!”

Dot rushed to her side. The red spot was moving fast now. West on Flinders toward Elizabeth, then right onto Williams.

“Where is he going? That’s not the way back to the station,” Phryne said.

Dot tried Hugh’s phone but got no answer.

“He should’ve gone over the river,” Phryne said, “We should follow. I can drive while you navigate, Dot.”

“Wait!” Mr. Butler said. “Let me make a call first. I may be able to find out where he’s heading.”

After a brief conversation that consisted mainly “mmm, hmms” and “I sees,” he turned to Phryne.

“Come with me, ladies. We’ll leave through the garage and use my vehicle.”

“It’s the hospital, Tobias,” Phryne said, looking up from her phone, “He’s on his way to hospital.”

“Yes. I’m afraid Inspector Robinson has been shot,” he said, infuriatingly calmly.

“Is he—” She felt the blood rush from her head

“I was unable to ascertain the extent of his injury, but my contact did think he was conscious when being placed in the ambulance.”

“He _thinks_ he was conscious?” she squeaked.

“What about Hugh?” Dot asked.

“As far as I know he was uninjured and has gone along to the hospital with the inspector. We’ll know more when we get there.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Where is he?” she demanded of the nurse at the emergency bay desk. “I’m looking for Jack Robinson. He should’ve been brought in by ambulance about half an hour ago.”

“What was the name again?” The nurse said smiling. She was used to hysterical loved ones shouting at her.

“Chief Inspector Jack Robinson!” Phryne shouted.

“Oh, yes. I believe he’s still here. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll see if I can get some information for you.”

“Don’t bother, I can get it faster myself,” Phryne said, rushing past and heading for the double doors behind the woman.

“Miss! You can’t just go running back there!”

“Jack!” Phryne hollered, once she’d done just that. “Jack Robinson! Where are you?”

“Bloody hell, Fisher. Keep it down. There are sick people here, you know.”

He poked his head out from behind a curtain and she flew in his direction. She threw her arms around his neck, noting that he was standing of his own accord and looked alright. The only evidence of injury was the sling she hadn’t noticed until her body pressed up against the arm strapped across his chest. He winced. She stepped back, quickly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dislocated shoulder,” came a voice from behind her.

She turned to see Hugh sitting in the corner of the curtained off area. He looked strange, and out of place. His dark uniform a contrast against the hospital green of the curtains. He had his hat resting on one knee. His hulking frame was perched on a stool that was far too small for him. He looked even broader than usual and she realized he had on a bullet proof vest.

“So, he wasn’t shot? I heard you were shot,” she said, turning back to Jack.

“Not shot, so much as caught a ricochet,” Jack said.

“He was shoving me out of the way,” Hugh said. “We both went down hard, but his shoulder took the brunt of it.”

“Where were you hit?” Her eyes were moving over him. He was wearing an undershirt and a pair of light blue hospital scrubs. There was no sign of a wound.

“It’s nothing—just a bit of shrapnel,” Jack said.

“In the ass,” Hugh said, grinning. “He was hit in the ass.”

“The hip, Collins.”

“Yeah, well, I stepped out for that bit,” Hugh said, “but I could hear through the curtain and one of those nurses said it was a shame—how’d she put it?—‘ _a shame to damage that lovely ass_ ’—I think that was it.”

“She was talking about my suit. She said it was a shame to damage the pants.”

“Pretty sure she said ass,” Hugh insisted.

“Piss off,” Jack laughed.

Phryne’s head was spinning. He was alive and whole and joking with Hugh. She was having a hard time reconciling it.

“Is this funny? I don’t find this funny. I thought you’d been shot.” She smacked his good shoulder with the flat of her hand.

Jack looked properly chastised.

“I’m sorry, Phryne,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Hugh and I were just blowing off a bit of steam. I know it’s not funny, but I’m fine. Really, I am.”

“Were you wearing a vest?”

“Of course. I didn’t take any unnecessary chances, love. Honest.”

She reached out for him and he took her hand, nodding reassuringly. His hand was warm, his grip solid. She let herself breath again and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“You’d better go see your fiancée, Hugh,” she said, without taking her eyes off of Jack. “She’s out front and I think she’d like to know you’re in one piece.”

“Right,” Hugh said. “I’ll leave him to you then. Someone should be coming back with his pain meds in a minute. Make him wait for them.”

Once they were alone, she slid her arms around his waist gently, trying to avoid the sling, and rested her head against his chest.

“I was so scared, Jack,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d been hurt.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I frightened you. I was going to call, I just hadn’t had the chance yet. How did you find out I was here so quickly?”

“It’s a long story, but we knew you were headed to hospital and Tobias was told you’d been wounded.”

“Mr. Butler?”

“I told you, the man has connections. He also said you called him and told him to keep me prisoner in my apartment. You’ve got some nerve, Jack Robinson.”

“Prisoner is a bit dramatic. Even for you,” he said. “I had a bad feeling. If they were trying to lure me out with that call, I thought they might try the same with you. I just asked him to make sure no one was let up to your place, and that you didn’t leave.”

“But if you thought it was a trap, why did you go on that call? What happened out there, Jack?”

“We can talk about that later,” he said, “I just want to get out of here, but it’s good to see you.”

He stroked his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted slightly as she sighed. He bent to kiss her. Softly at first, then increasing in intensity when her arms tightened around his waist and she leaned into the contact.

It hurt, but he could feel her fingers digging into his back as she clung to him, and her mouth was so eager, he ignored the pain. He cupped the back of her head, weaving his hand into her hair and pulling her closer.

“Ahem. So sorry to interrupt.”

“Doctor,” Phryne said, disentangling from Jack. She stepped forward to extend her hand. “Hello. I’m Phryne Fisher. I assume I have you to thank for putting him back together?”

“I’ve done what I can,” she said. Her firm hand shake, confident manner and warm smile were reassuring. “May I count on you to help keep him together? I could barely convince him to wear the sling.”

“He can be stubborn,” Phryne commiserated.

“Well, hopefully you can get him to take these.” She smiled, handing Phryne a bottle of pills.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Jack felt a bit like a disobedient pet as they talked around him. On the other hand, the way Phryne had taken ownership of him was pleasing and he realized he was grinning like a fool. He faked a small cough, taking the opportunity to rearrange his face into a more neutral expression.

“They should help with the pain, Jack,” the doctor said, “It’s just prescription strength ibuprofen. Are you sure you don’t want something a bit stronger? The shoulder shouldn’t give you too much trouble, but the other wound might be rather painful for a day or two.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Jack said. “Thank you, Dr Harcut.”

“Alright. It’s your call, but promise me you will take them. They’ll help with inflammation. You should ice the shoulder as well. Ten to fifteen minutes every hour, if you can. The x-ray showed no breakage and I don’t think there’s been any tissue damage. You shouldn’t need the sling long, but don’t rush things or you will make it worse. As for the stitches, keep them dry for 48 hours. A shower should be fine after that, but no long soaks. They’ll dissolve on their own in a week or so. Have you got all that?”

“Got it.”

“You were very lucky, Jack.”

He nodded, shaking the woman’s hand.

“I know. Thank you, again.”

“I’ll look after him,” Phryne promised.

“Good. Then, if you’ll just sign these forms, you’re free to go.”

They gathered up Jack’s belongings. Most of his clothes were bunched up in a plastic bag. He slipped into his shoes, the brown brogues slightly ridiculous when paired with the scrubs. Phryne saw the bullet proof vest under the examining table and went to pick it up from the floor. Jack tried to take it from her.

“I’ve got that,” he said, a little too keenly.

She pulled it away from his grasping hands and stepped back from him. She held it up in front of her to examine it.

“You lied to me,” she said, not sure if she felt anger or horror upon seeing of the damage.

“Don’t be mad. I was going to tell you later,” he explained. “And, I didn’t lie, I just left a bit out. I really am fine. It’s just a bruise.”

“Let me see.”

He lifted his shirt, turning slightly to show her the deep black and purple mark on the left side of his abdomen, just below his rib cage. Without the vest she’d most likely be sitting in a waiting room right now, praying he made it through surgery, or worse.

She brushed her fingertips over it, light as a feather so as not to hurt him. It had been a closer thing than she wanted to contemplate. She focused on the fact that he was here. He was alive and she was touching him.

“So, the story about the shrapnel? Just a ruse to throw me off?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he said, grimacing. “That’s what the stitches the doctor mentioned are for. They pulled out a fair sized fragment.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, so that I’ll forget about your little omission, you’ve another thing coming, inspector.”

“It was worth a shot,” he said. “No pun intended.”

“Let’s get you home,” she said, rolling her eyes.

A minute later they were back in the waiting room, arguing.

“Why do you have to go in? You’ve been wounded. Surely that earns you the rest of the day off!”

“I can’t give them time to regroup. Today was their first big mess up and I’m sure they’re scrambling to come up with a plausible story to explain it all, as we speak.”

“But, they want you dead. Why give them a chance to try again? And, what exactly do you plan to do? You still don’t know who you can trust!”

“If I may interject.”

“Yes, Tobias. Please talk some sense into him.”

“The inspector is right. Their plan was ill-conceived and hastily undertaken. There will be a certain level of panic occurring that can be taken advantage of.”

“You’re not helping,” Phryne cried.

“Things are in play, Phryne. My place is at the station,” Jack said.

“Actually, I’ve been instructed to tell you to keep away from the station. You too, Sergeant Collins.”

“Instructed by who?” Jack said, looking at the man curiously. “Mr. Butler, you seem incredibly well informed and well connected. We had back up out there today that seemed to come out of nowhere. Do you know anything about that?”

“The Chief Commissioner is a former associate of mine. I was concerned by some of the things you told me when you called, so I reached out to my old friend.”

“I’m very glad you did,” Jack said. “And, I assume he is the one that has asked that I stay away from the station?”

“That is correct. He’d also like you to contact him as soon as possible, but I would suggest you make that call somewhere a bit less public.”

Mr. Butler drove them all back and they entered the building through the garage. There hadn’t been any reports of the incident on the radio news broadcasts and Phryne had checked with Bert and Cec, police scanners were suspiciously quiet as well.

“Will you come upstairs for a cup of tea, Tobias?” Phryne asked.

“No thank you, Ms. Fisher. I best return to my duties,” he said, congenially. “I’ll make sure you don’t have any unauthorized visitors.”

“Thank you, Mr. Butler,” Jack said. “I think you may have saved my life today. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.”

“There’s nothing to repay, inspector. I’m just glad help arrived in time.”

“So am I, and please, call me Jack.”

“Good luck with that,” Phryne said, “I’ve been asking him to use my first name since the day I moved in!”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a stickler for propriety,” Tobias laughed, “I’m more comfortable with formality. Probably a hold over from my military days, but maybe it’s just in my blood. I had a great-uncle who was in service.”

“Did you really?”

“Yes, my mother told wonderful stories of the grand house he worked in and the remarkable woman he served. Maybe that’s what drew me to this life in my retirement. It has some similarities.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m very glad you’re here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments. So sorry to leave you hanging. I hope you're breathing easier now.


	23. Chapter 23

As soon as they reached the apartment, Jack retired to Phryne’s office to place a call to the chief commissioner. Phryne went to pour herself a drink, and Dot began fussing about the kitchen, starting tea and plating up biscuits.

“Dot, you don’t need to do that,” Phryne said. “You’re not the housekeeper.”

“It calms me to be busy,” Dot said. “Can I make you a cuppa?”

“Sure. But I think I’ll start with something a bit stronger first,” she said, taking a sip of her whisky. “How about you, Hugh? Can I pour you one?”

“Thanks, but I'm not much for whisky. I wouldn’t say no to a cold one, though, if you’ve got one to hand.”

“In the fridge. Help yourself. She poured a whisky for Jack and plopped herself down on the couch.

Hugh and Dot joined her in the living room and they sat, in silence, waiting for Jack. Sun streamed through the windows and Phryne was jolted to realize it was only early afternoon. The day already felt endless.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that nothing would be discussed until Jack joined them, so when the silence became oppressive, conversation turned to small talk.

Hugh commented on Phryne’s apartment and mentioned the difficulties he and Dot were having finding a suitable property to live in after they were married.

“We’d really like to find a little bungalow. Nothing extravagant, but Hugh wants a bit of a garden and I’m hoping to find one with a decent sized kitchen,” Dot said.

“And, an extra bedroom,” Hugh said, giving Dot a small smile. “Room to grow, you know? Ideally, it wouldn’t be too far from the station either.”

“And, not too far from here,” Dot said, “so that neither of us has a long commute to work. Until we find something, Hugh will move into my place, but you know how small that is. We’ll be on top of each other.”

“Well, you’ll be newlyweds. You’ll be on top of each other anyway, won’t you?” Phryne said, taking a sip of her drink and giving Dot a sly look over the rim. Dot blushed.

Jack came from the bedroom and Phryne straightened, handing him his drink as he came to sit beside her on the couch.

“What did he say?”

“I told him what we’d uncovered. He wants to see everything we’ve got.”

“I still don’t understand what happened today. What did you tell Tobias that made him suspicious enough to call the commissioner in the first place?” Phryne asked.

“When the call came in about the hostage situation at Sally’s, I knew it had to be Blackstone, and I was more than a little angry with myself for not having seen it coming. We’d put the wind up him. He must have remembered Angela’s friend, and made the connection that she was your source.”

“We couldn’t have known he’d go off half-cocked like that!” Phryne said.

“We should have at least considered it and given Sal a head’s up,” Jack said. “Regardless, it was odd that Melbourne East would call for assistance. That made me suspicious.”

“So you took the call yourself, even though you suspected it was a trap,” Phryne said, a little angry with him, but also unsurprised by his decision.

“I had to see it through,” he said. “I was afraid they’d try to get to you too, so I called Mr. Butler to make sure no one got in to see you. I had to tell him some of the circumstances, especially the connection to Branson Street because Street is just the kind of man that could walk right into a property like this unquestioned.”

“So, Tobias was concerned enough to call the commissioner and—then what?” Dot asked.

“Apparently this wasn’t the first the commissioner had heard of the whole thing. Archie had already contacted him with my concerns, so this breach of protocol by Melbourne East alarmed him, and he sent a unit in to cover us.”

“Thank God,” Dot said.

“We think Street orchestrated the whole thing, he’s in custody, which is why I’m not too thrilled to be sitting on my thumbs right now. I’d really like a crack at him. I think Street either told Blackstone to clean up his mess, or, when he realized what Blackstone was doing, decided to use the opportunity to rid himself of a problem.”

“You and Blackstone,” Phryne said.

“Blackstone, definitely. I think Street has decided the operation would be more lucrative without Blackstone. Whether or not I was a target is unclear.”

“He must have pulled strings to get you called in for assistance,” Phryne argued. “They wanted you out there so they could get a shot at you. Don’t try to tell me that it was a coincidence, Jack”

“It may well have been. The sergeant from East has admitted to being in Street’s pocket, and doing his bidding. He was told to request assistance from City South, but they couldn’t be sure I’d go out on the call myself. I could have just as easily sent one of my men. In fact it seems odd to me that they did it at all. It was risky. They tipped their hand.”

“I know why they wanted you out of the office! They wanted a look at your files! I’d completely forgotten!” Phryne said. “I got a call from Maria Benz. That’s how I knew you were in trouble in the first place.”

“Constable Benz? What are you talking about?”

“When you were called out, Johnston phone her and asked her to go through your office looking for evidence of what you’d been working on.”

“Johnston called my most junior constable?” Jack said, trying to wrap his head around this new information. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. He really hoped Maria Benz wasn’t among the officers that had been compromised. He liked her and thought she had promise.

“She’s his goddaughter, Jack,” Phryne said. “She didn’t want anyone to know. Wanted to be judged on her own merits, but apparently he’s been keeping tabs on you though her by feigning interest in her work. She didn’t do as he asked, by the way.”

“Good to know. So, Johnston was behind the attempt to get me out of the office?”

“Of course,” Hugh said. “He knows you’d never send a man out on a call like that while you sat behind your desk. That bastard wanted you dead.”

“We still don’t know that. He may have just wanted a good look at my files.”

“Jack, please. Stop defending the man,” Phryne said.

“We could debate this all night. The fact is, we don’t know what their plans really were,” Jack shrugged, “and odds are they won’t admit to targeting a cop, but there is no doubt Blackstone was a target. The sergeant from East has confirmed Street ordered him to take him out.”

“Where is Blackstone now?” Phryne asked, realizing she hadn’t given the man a thought since she’d learned Jack was in danger.

“In hospital. They don’t think he’ll make it. I’m sure there are many that hope he doesn’t. It will be harder to contain the story if he lives, but to the chief’s credit, he’s protecting him. There’ll be a uniform standing guard if he gets out of surgery.”

“What do you mean contain it?” Phryne asked.

Jack sighed. “I’m getting the distinct impression a lot of this will be made to disappear.”

“What?”

“Think about it. If word got out as the extent of corruption, and the blackmail list becomes public, trust in police and government would be severely damaged. This is going to have to be contained. Most of this won’t see the light of day.”

He slammed his whisky back, set the empty glass down on the table and ran his hand over his face.

It wasn’t until that moment that Phryne remembered all he’d been through. It was jarring to have it brought to mind and realize how quickly they’d moved on from it. She’d somehow glossed over how incongruous his current image was with his usual self. Sitting beside her, in hospital scrubs and an undershirt, his arm in a sling.

She wished they were alone so she could put her arms around him. She wanted to let him rest his head against her chest and hold him until he fell asleep.

“So, now what?” she asked.

“We’ve got to get everything we have to the chief as quickly as possible. He wants to keep a lid on this, but he knows he’s got a mess on his hands. I want to make sure the worst offenders get what’s coming to them and that means getting this done before word gets out and people make moves to protect themselves.”

“Then we should get moving. Dot’s a wiz at organizing notes, I can type. We’ll have it done in no time, but are you sure we can trust him?”

“I trust him. And, if my instincts aren’t enough, we’ve got Archie and Mr. Butler, who was apparently a bit of a legend in his day, to vouch for him.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Phryne said. “But, what about how some of this information was obtained?”

“I balked at revealing my sources, and he promised there’d be no repercussions for anyone that helped gather it. In fact I think he’d like to give out medals if he didn’t have to keep this quiet. Everyone’s safe. Bert and Cec included.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Dot said. “Hugh, go start another pot of tea.”

Two hours later, they’d sent off the report, Dot and Hugh had gone. Phryne had asked Mr. Butler to run down to the corner store and pick up a few bags of frozen veg and was settling a bag of frozen peas on Jack’s shoulder. She watched his face twist as he shifted against the coach.

“Is it very painful?”

“Nah. Just a little sore.

“Who shot you?”

“Not sure. I never saw him. We were in the relay hub and the shots came from in between two standing cars, off to my left.”

“And you pushed Hugh out of the way?”

“That’s what he says, but I think it was more just me falling over and taking him to the ground with me.”

“And you never saw the gunman?”

“No. Back up arrived and I know they gave chase, but they didn’t find him.”

“So, it could’ve been a cop.”

“It’s possible.”

There was more she could’ve said on that subject. She was seething with anger inside that one of his own might have done this to him. She knew that was probably the most painful part of it for him too.

“Here, take one of these.” She held out a pill in the palm of her hand and handed him a glass of water.

“Thank you. You don’t have to fuss over me,” he said.

“I want to fuss. Let me.” She repositioned the peas.

“Sit up a little,” she said. He obeyed and she rolled the hem of his shirt up to reveal the bruise left when the bullet struck his vest. She rubbed her hands together to warm them, then took a small scoop of arnica cream from a jar and dabbed it lightly over the bruise. There was no broken skin. The wound would fade.

He watched her. Her head bent as she concentrated on her work. Her touch was featherlight and tender.

“You’re wonderful, you know that?”

Her eyes flicked up to his for a second and she smiled before returning to her work.

“I should have fussed,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Over you. I should have stayed and taken care of you that night.”

“You found me, Jack. And, I knew you were there, in the ambulance with me, when I needed you most.”

“But, I should’ve stayed.”

‘You had work to do.”

“I was a coward. I left you alone.”

She finished her work, gently repositioned his shirt and went to the kitchen to find a towel to wipe clean her hands.

“I wasn’t alone. I had Dot and Mac,” she said. “I understood why you couldn’t be there.”

“Did you want me?”

“Honestly? Yes. But, I understood. I’d hurt you.”

“I wasn’t that. You scared me. The way it felt when I thought you were gone. It terrified me and we were so far apart at the time, I wasn’t even sure if you’d want me there.”

“I did. I wanted you, but it was my own fault for pushing you away in the first place. Let’s not dwell on this, it was all so long ago.”

“I wasn’t really.

“Feels like it though, doesn’t it?”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel like we’ve always been together and other times, it feels brand new and I have to convince myself that it’s real. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You don’t still have any doubts about that, do you? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. Neither am I.”

“We wasted a lot of time, Jack, and we could still lose this. In an instant. I learned that today,” she said. She faced him, leaning back against the kitchen island counter. “I think you should move in with me.”

“What?”

“Life is short and we want to be together, don’t we? Move in with me.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I’ll even give you more than one drawer,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“Phryne, this isn’t something to be flippant about.”

“I’m not. I’m dead serious. I want you here always. Don’t you want to be with me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then move in. Come on, Jack. I don’t want to waste any more time. We can do this. You’re here all the time already and I miss you when you’re not. What do you say?”

He was watching her from across the room with unreadable eyes. It was so strange to her that quite often she knew exactly what he was thinking without him having to say a word. Then there were times like this, with matters of the heart, where she was unsure of his mind. He took a deep breath.

“Marry me,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ve done the living together. This is bigger than that, it deserves more,” He got up from the couch and crossed over to her, dropping to one knee and taking her hand.

“Get up, Jack,” she said, laughing and trying to pull him from the ground.

“You don’t think I mean it,” he said, smiling up at her. “I’m completely serious. Phryne Fisher, will you—”

“Stop!”

He stopped and stood up again, feeling incredibly foolish. He’d gone too far, got carried away.

“Jack Robinson, if you think that’s a proper proposal, think again.”

“What?”

“I don’t require fireworks, and don’t you dare go for one of those highly public displays at a sporting event or something. In fact, the whole idea of a fancy proposal isn’t really my style, but asking me to marry you as a way of apologizing is not going to cut it.”

“Apologizing?”

“You’re still feeling guilty about not being here for me and you’re trying to make a grand gesture. It’s not necessary.”

“It’s not an apology. Well, I am sorry for not being here for you, but, oh, hell, this has gotten all muddled, hasn’t it? Have I ruined everything? I meant it, though Phryne. I want to marry you. And honestly, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to marry anyone, but I want to marry _you_. It that something you’d ever consider? It doesn’t have to be now. Have I jumped the gun?”

The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly, though it was only really a matter of seconds before she responded.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think you have.”

His head was spinning. He’d asked too many questions and wasn’t sure which she was answering.

“Haven’t what?” He asked.

“Jumped the gun.”

She was smiling at him in a way that stole his breath. It was utterly captivating.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So, you want to— to do this?” he asked. His heart was pounding. He was feeling light headed and understood now why being down on one knee might be a good idea. Less far to fall.

“If you’re sincere in asking.”

“I am. Absolutely sincere. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“Me too,” she said, surprising no one so much as herself. She felt buoyant, on the verge of hysterical laughter. “Let’s do this.”

“I don’t have a ring.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she laughed.

“Well, that’s romantic,” he complained.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

* * *

 

They sat on the couch. Take out boxes strewn across the coffee table. A show they weren’t really paying attention to on the telly. He had his good arm around her shoulders and she was leaned up against him with her feet tucked up under her.

“It’s going to be a lovely story to tell our children,” he said. “I asked your mum to marry me and she said she didn’t give a shit.”

“I said yes, you asshole. And what children? We never discussed children.”

“Didn’t we? Well, there will be six. Four boys and two girls.”

“Not on your life.”

“Hmmm. We’ll negotiate.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“Yes. You are.”

* * *

Later, in bed they lay beside each other, shoulder to shoulder, hands entwined.

“I’m still going to get you a ring,” he said into the darkness.

“That’d be nice.”

“And surprise you with it.”

“Okay.”

“There will be fireworks, and a jumbotron involved.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Are you happy, Phryne?”

“Yes. Very. Quiet now, Jack. You need your sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

He let go of her hand and she felt him touch her hip. His hand warm and reassuring. His fingers brushed lightly, sweeping their way to her inner thigh.

“Jack?”

“I still have one good hand,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a turn even I wasn't expecting! I hope you like where it went. I'm out of town for a few days so won't be posting any more until next week, but I still have one or two more chapters before this is finished.


	24. Chapter 24

All day long he kept receiving messages from her. Had it been any other woman it would have driven him bonkers. Well, maybe under the same circumstances he’d have tolerated it from someone else, but he couldn’t imagine these same circumstances with anyone else.

He’d barely reached his desk when the first text arrived.

 

> _Don’t tell Hugh! At least not yet. We shouldn’t stomp all over their big day_

_Agreed_

Then, later:

 

> _Did you know paperwork must be filed a month in advance?!_

Following this was a link to the “Getting Married” page on the Australia.gov website.

 

> _Should we look this over tonight?_

_Sure_

He was grinning from ear to ear. Delighted that she was so impatient to move ahead with their plans. If he could, he'd marry her today. It was very hard not to share his news. A short chime announced another text.

  

> _You don’t want a big to-do, do you?_

 

_No, but don’t want to keep it a secret either_

 

> _Not secret. Small ceremony. Large party_

 

_Sounds good. Discuss later?_

 

> _Sure._

The messages stopped for awhile then, but a few hours later:

  

> _When are you moving in?_

 

_When do you want me?_

  

> _Would right now sound pushy?_

 

_No, but meeting with chief commissioner in ten_

 

> _Ten is plenty of time_

 

_Incorrigible woman_

  

> _Good luck with commish. Meet at yours later to help you pack?_

 

_Is that what the kids are calling it these days?_

  

> _Cheeky boy_

* * *

 

“Did you get my text? You haven’t been waiting long, have you?” he asked, hurrying up the path to his door. He’d been kept at his desk longer than anticipated and all he’d been able to think about for that past several hours was getting her alone.

“I just got here,” she said.

Once she realized he wasn’t home yet, she’d sat down in one of the chairs he had out on the little front porch, looking out at his neatly kept yard. She didn’t know how much time he spent on it, but there was a small flower bed and the path to the door looked fairly well tended. The back garden was much the same, she remembered. He even had a small vegetable plot growing back there.

“I’d have a key made for you,” he said, “but there doesn’t seem much point in that anymore, does there?”

“Not really,” she stood to greet him, kissing his cheek as he unlocked the door. “Will you miss this place?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, glancing around him. “Although, I’ve been wondering where I’ll keep my bikes.”

“There’s room in the garage. I have two stalls and only use one.”

“But, I’m not sure the other residents will appreciate me turning that pristine garage into a service station when I need to work on them.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s our garage stall, we can use it as we please. Your shed here is nicer to work in though, isn’t it? You can open the doors and it’s bright and airy. You’ll be underground at the apartment,” she frowned.

“A small price to pay,” he said, putting his good arm around her, pulling her through the door and kissing her soundly. She wound her arm around his neck, mindful of the bad shoulder, as he kicked the door shut and steered her down the hall, toward his room.

“Hey!” she said, pulling away. “What about Hugh and Dot!”

“What about them?” He looked at her in confusion.

“They’re looking for a place and this would be perfect, as long as the kitchen passes muster with Dot. I’m sure they’d be okay with letting you use the shed when you want.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll talk to Hugh after the wedding,” he said, pulling her to him again and bending her back a little to get at her neck.

“How’d the meeting go?” She asked, arching to allow him better access.

“Can we discuss that later?” His hand wandered down to cup her ass.

“I can multi-task, inspector,” she laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m a bit more single minded at the moment. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head all day.”

He pressed her to him to illustrate just how urgent the situation had become.

They made it to his room and she fumbled with his belt, unfastening the buckle and pulling it hastily from its loops. He, meanwhile, had removed the sling and was reaching for the buttons on her blouse

She slapped him away.

“You’re not supposed to use that arm yet! In fact, maybe we should be icing your shoulder right now.”

“Phryne, I’m fine,” he argued, reaching for her again. She stepped back.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Just how do you propose we do this if I can’t use both my hands?”

“We’ll find a way, but only if you promise to behave yourself.”

She ran a hand along his chest, her heart rate increasing in anticipation. It was always exciting when he was this desperate for her, but she had to be mindful of his injuries.

She’d helped him to dress that morning, which had been its own kind of fun, but it was going to be much better to reverse the process. She began by unbuttoning his shirt. He dropped his hands and watched her work through hooded eyes.

She pushed the shirt gently off his shoulders and trailed a finger down his abdomen, hooking it into the waistband of his trousers.

“Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes, please do.”

“Then put the sling back on,” she said, seriously, removing her hand.

“Aw, come on, Phryne. I want to touch you.”

“I want that too, but the more you wear it, the sooner you’ll be rid of it for good. Besides, I know what you can single handedly do. I’m not worried about being left unsatisfied.” She returned her attentions to disrobing him, dropping to her knees as she slid his trousers and briefs down in one, “and neither should you be.”

“God, I love you,” he sighed.

“Put the sling on or this goes no further.”

He obeyed, grumbling, and was well rewarded. When he was panting and rather desperate, she stood and pushed him to sit down on the bed, stepping back to remove her own clothing. He pulled himself along to lean against the headboard and sat back, happy to watch.

After a slow strip tease, she began to touch herself, keeping her eyes locked on his and watching as his pupils dilated, filling his eyes until they nearly eclipsed the blue of his iris.

When she was ready, she crawled onto the bed, prowling over him. He slid forward, crossing his legs to let her settle in his lap, her thighs encircling his hips, her ankles crossed behind his back. She draped one arm over his shoulder.

She bucked against him and he groaned.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No. Stop worrying about me Phryne. I want this. I want you.”

“Tell me what you want, Jack,” she said, burying her head against his neck to breath him in. His familiar scent, mixed with that of her own arousal was dizzying.

“I want to be inside you,” he growled.

She shifted and he brought his hand between them, aligning himself with her and pushing in. She slid forward. His hand came around her back to help bring her closer. He thrust up into her as she bore down, taking him deep inside. The arm slung across his chest prevented the skin to skin contact she craved, but they were as tight together as they could get, under the circumstances, and it was glorious.

She fisted her hand in the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to look up so she could gaze into his eyes. They rocked together as the pressure built inside them.

She could feel him throbbing. Each shallow thrust sent a shock straight up her spine. His tongue darted out to taste her lips, but he maintained eye contact. She twisted in his lap, making him moan, his eyes squeezing shut.

She covered his mouth with hers, desperate for another point of contact, wanting to crawl inside him and live there forever.

She was soaring when his hand came between them, his nimble fingers providing just the extra touch she needed, and she went over, contracting around him and taking him along for the ride.

For several minutes after, they remained entwined, her head resting on his shoulder, his hand warm on her back. She felt him softening inside her but wasn’t ready for him to leave just yet. When he finally slipped from her, she felt bereft, like a part of her had been lost.

She moved off his lap and he slid down to lie on his back, reaching to bring her down with him. She tucked up next to him, his arm holding her close, her head on his chest. She traced the bruise on his abdomen, still quite a vivid purple, with the tip of her finger, then her hand moved over to his hip.

A small, raised scar would remain there, where the stitches currently held the wound together. Years from now, she’d feel for it in the night, knowing just were to find it by touch alone.

“Johnston’s no longer Deputy Commissioner,” he said, quietly. “He’s already in custody.”

“Is that what the chief wanted to tell you today?”

“That, among other things. Johnston will face charges, as will Blackstone and Street of course. The extent of which remains to be seen. There are a few lower level members of the constabulary facing various obstruction or corruption charges as well. Several cases are being called into question and may need to be retried. It’s pretty much the mess we thought it would be.”

“What about the other officials that were being blackmailed? And what about the businessman from Sydney that Angela was with the night she died?”

“There are still a lot of questions. A lot of work to be done. Some of it will get buried,” he said.

“You don’t think there’ll be justice for Angie, do you?”

“I don’t know, but I suspect not.”

“What about Alric? Have you been able to tie him to it all yet?”

“No. Not definitively, and I don’t think we will. I have no doubt he knew about some of the things going on in his hotel, but I’m not sure even he knew the extent of it. I think he played a carefully limited and deniable role in all of this. The only way he might be implicated is if Johnston has damaging information and turns.”

“Do you think he will?”

“Not unless it’s in his interest. If it could get him a reduced sentence, then yes, I think he might.”

“Who’s replacing him as deputy?”

“Superintendent Rodgers.” There was a noticeable hitch in his breathing and rather pregnant pause. “They want me to take his place.”

“What?”

“The commissioner offered the super’s job to me today.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I needed time to think about it.”

“Really? What’s to think about? That’s a desk job, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’d hate that.”

“Probably, but I thought I should at least discuss it with you before making a decision.”

“With me?”

“Isn’t that what partners are supposed to do? Discuss big life decisions with each other?”

She leaned up on her elbow, gaping at him.

“Phryne?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We’re planning to spend our lives together, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but, I’ve been making my own decisions for a long time now.”

“Me too.”

“Are you saying I can’t make decisions about my own life anymore without talking to you first?”

“Not every decision. Just the big ones.”

“And, you get to have a say? Which ones are the big ones?”

She sounded a little frantic.

“Is this moving too fast for you?”

“No. No. I don’t think so, but—”

“I’m not planning on telling you how to live your life, Phryne, or what jobs to take, or anything like that, but I would like to think that my feelings matter and will factor in your decisions. And I thought you would want the same from me. Am I wrong?”

“When you say you want your feelings to factor in, what does that mean?” She sat up beside him, looking at him intently.

He sat up too, scrubbing his hand over his face. He’d been a little afraid of this, she was so fiercely independent and he didn’t really want to change that, but he didn’t want to always be buffeted in her wake. He wanted to be a part of things, not an afterthought.

“All I mean is that I’d like to know ahead of time when you’re about to make a decision that will affect me, like accepting an assignment that will take you away for long periods of time.”

“So, after we’re married I can’t take any long term jobs away from Melbourne?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I’d like to be consulted ahead of time.”

“Consulted?”

“Informed. Is that a better word? Don’t you want me to consider you in my plans?”

“I would never ask you to do something that makes you unhappy just to please me,” she said.

“Same here. If you want to chase a story that takes you away for months at a time, will I be happy? No. But, if it’s something you really want I’ll never stop you, because then you’d be unhappy. I’d just like to be part of the process. Considered. Is that such a burden?”

“I guess not. I just don’t think it will come naturally to me.”

“We’ve got time to work it out.”

“So, are you considering the Superintendent position?”

“Should I?”

“You really want my take on it?”

“Yes.”

“I think you should do what you want.”

“You have no opinion one way or the other? The promotion pays better. It’d keep me mostly out of the field.”

“I don’t care about the salary. I do want you to be safe, but I want you to be happy too. You’d be safer behind a desk, but you’d hate it,” she said.

“I’m not really in all that much danger in my current position. Do you know how many times I’ve been shot at?”

“Not sure how that matters, since it only takes one, but how many times?”

“Yesterday was the first. I’ve never even fired my service weapon other than target practice.”

“You didn’t get a shot off yesterday?”

“I didn’t know where to aim. I was on the ground before I knew what was happening.”

“Not very sexy, inspector.”

“Would firing blindly have been hotter, Fisher?”

“Not getting shot at all. That would’ve been hot,” she said. “Don’t look to me to make your decision. It’s not my place.”

“It is. In part.”

“What do _you_ want to do?”

“If I don’t take it, it might look bad. I may never get the offer again.”

“I don’t believe that. If there comes a time you want it, you can have that job, or a better one. If you want it, you should take it, but not because the offer might not come again and not to make me happy. I’ll be happy if you are, but I don’t think that job will make you happy. It’s too soon for a desk job. You’ll be bored and I think you’d be miserable.”

“Yes. I would,” he agreed, placing his hand on her knee. “See, that’s all I wanted and all I want the chance to do when you’ve got a decision to make. Is it really so hard?”

“I guess not.” She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, and looking rather adorable, he thought.

“What else am I going to have to keep in mind?” She said.

She wanted him so much, but her head was swimming. All these decisions to make together. Where would they live? She’d just assumed her place, and he seemed to agree, but was that really what he wanted? And what about money? She had more than him, would that be an issue? And kids. He’d been joking about six, hadn’t he? It was all rather alarming and annoying.

“What other things do we need to discuss, Jack?”

His lips turned up into a smirk. He loved the clipped way she had of finishing his name. Especially when she was a little irritated. The sound slotted into his brain and triggered a burning in his gut. His hand slipped higher onto her thigh. She stopped its progress.

“Let’s save some of that energy for later, inspector, shall we? We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Second. Third.”

“We can wait,” he said, quickly. “Or, just live together, if that’s what you want.”

“Don’t do that, Jack. Don’t be so quick to put aside what you want for what you think I want. What would you do if I said I wanted you to take that promotion? Would you accept it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If it made you happy.”

“Even if it made you miserable?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t be too miserable. Sharing a life with someone means compromise.”

“Yes. Something I’m not good at.”

She laughed at his suddenly devastated expression.

“Don’t look so worried. I’m still going to marry the hell out of you. We just have to figure out how to do it our way and you can’t let me steamroll you, because I will try. Don’t let me get away with it just because you’re afraid I’ll leave if I don’t get what I want.”

He hadn’t even realized it until she pointed it out, but part of him was still afraid she’d leave. That he’d lose her again, and he knew he’d be willing to do whatever was needed to keep that from happening.

“I love you, Jack. I’ve already learned I’m not happy without you and I will make compromises and consider you, but you might have to remind me.”

“And, if I don’t like a decision you make?”

“I might get a bit bitchy about it, but I’m not going anywhere, and once I’ve calmed down, I’m sure we’ll come to an acceptable compromise.”

“Meaning we’ll find a middle ground, or you’ll make me see things your way?”

“Well, if I do bring you around to my way, you’ll think it’s your own idea, so six of one,” she said, smiling coyly.


	25. Chapter 25

As she came down the aisle she knocked the breath from his lungs. He had to force himself to look away from her, to keep his focus on Dot and Hugh, to be present for his friends and share in their joy.

Hugh was placing the ring on Dot’s finger and the way Dot was looking back at him made Jack’s skin tingle. He wondered if Phryne would look at him that way when the time came.

His eyes again drifted over Dot’s shoulder to the raven haired beauty in question to find her looking back at him. She smiled softly, her eyes shining with love and rimmed with tears. His insides turned to jelly.

The rest of the ceremony was little more than a buzzing in his ear.

* * *

The wedding had unearthed an inner romantic Phryne hadn’t realized was there.

She’d been to weddings before, of course, but she felt particularly invested in this one. She loved Dot like a sister and was struck by how nice it was to be among others that loved her too and wanted to share this moment with her and Hugh.

She could see the appeal of making a public declaration. She wasn’t religious, and didn’t feel the need to make the commitment in the eyes of any god, but committing to the man she wanted to spend her life with, promising mutual love and support, in front of the people that were important to them? That sounded rather lovely.

Among the loved ones witnessing Dot and Hugh’s union, Phryne was very happy to see Dot’s mother. She knew, from Jack, that Hugh had played a big role in the reconciliation, going without Dot’s knowledge to speak to her mum.

That was risky, Phryne thought, and could have backfired badly on him, but whatever he’d said seemed to have done the trick, because the woman was in the front pew quietly crying her eyes out. She’d been blubbering since her first sight of Dot in her wedding dress.

The champagne hued, duchesse satin gown complimented Dot’s coloring beautifully and the bateau neckline was demure, but alluring in the way it followed the curve of her collarbone. The dress was sleeveless with a fitted bodice and finished in a full, sweeping skirt. The addition of the tiara her mother had worn on her own wedding day had been the perfect accessory, adding a touch of sparkle when tucked up into Dot’s hair. She looked rather like a fairy-tale princess.

Right now, the light through the stained glass window was glinting off the rhinestone tiara, creating the illusion of a glowing halo hovering over the bride. The groom looked, in turns, stunned, enchanted, frightened and overjoyed.

Phryne looked to the man standing behind Hugh. As she’d come down aisle her eyes had been immediately drawn to Jack, looking predictably striking in his tuxedo and she’d been stealing looks at him throughout the ceremony. This time, she caught him looking at her with an adoration that caused her heart to stutter. Her hands tightened on the bouquet she held.

There was a kiss and some applause and then she was taking his arm, holding on possessively and heading up the aisle. He glanced sideways at her with a small smile and she felt a burst of joy exploding in her belly.

She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear.

“Mac knows.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I had to tell someone!”

They’d reached the end of the aisle. She let her hand drop, gave him a wink and sashayed away.

* * *

 The reception was in full swing.

It was, like the ceremony, a small but joyful affair. Jack was watching Phryne dance with one of Hugh’s old school mates. She was laughing as the man clutched her waist and spun her around. He was looking forward to a slightly slower number when he’d get the chance to hold her in his arms and feel her body sway with his, until then, he was happy to watch her.

His reverie was interrupted by Mrs. Collins grasping his arm and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. The large feather from the fascinator angled precipitously on her head poked him in the eye and he was enveloped in a cloud of Shalimar. He choked a little on the sweet, vanilla scent that might have been pleasant had it been used more judiciously.

“Jack!” she cried, “You look so lonely standing here! Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Collins,” Jack replied, politely.

“Please, Jack, call me Cecile. Everyone does,” she said, though Jack knew she’d yet to extend the same invitation to her new daughter-in-law. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for all you’ve done for my Hugh. He thinks the world of you,” the woman gushed.

“I think the same of him,” He looked out to where Hugh and Dot were dancing. “And Dot. They’re going to be very happy together.”

The woman’s lips pursed together slightly and her eyes narrowed as she peered at her son and his bride on the dance floor.

“I hope you’re right. He did seem terribly set on her from the beginning. She’s a pretty thing to be sure, but I worry she might be a bit too self-assured.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Jack questioned.

“A man likes to be needed. Did you know she refuses to take his name?” Mrs. Collins said, aghast.

“That’s not at all unusual these days,” Jack said. Phryne certainly intended to keep hers.

“But, it’s a slap in the face to her husband.”

“No, it’s not, and I know Hugh doesn’t see it that way,” Jack said. “Dot has made a name for herself in her line of work. It only makes sense that she’d want to maintain her identity. There are any number of reasons a woman might what to keep her name, disrespecting the man she loves is not one of them. Dot loves your son. Very much.”

“Well,” the woman huffed, “I’d like to believe you’re right. Personally, I’m afraid she’s been rather unduly influenced, but I’ll say no more about that. Now, when do you think you might follow Hugh to the altar, Jack? A man in your position should have a good woman behind him. Have you met my cousin’s daughter? She’s recently lost quite a bit of weight and has such a pretty face! Come! Let me introduce you.”

“Actually, Mrs. Collins.”

“Cecile, please,” she beamed.

“It’s kind of you to think of me, but I already have a good woman beside me. Miss Fisher and I are—seeing each other.”

“Hugh said something to that effect.” The pursed lips made another appearance. “Jack, I hope you don’t mind a little friendly advice. I know your own mother is no longer with us, and as my Hugh’s best man, I feel a motherly responsibility toward you.”

Jack braced himself. He had a good idea what was coming. If this woman hadn’t warmed to Dot, he could only imagine her opinion of Phryne.

“Now, I don’t mean to offend,” she said, a sure indication that something offensive was about to follow. “Phryne Fisher is not the type of woman a man can rely on. Trust me, I’m old enough to understand these things.”

She patted his arm sympathetically.

“I know she’s very pretty and has a— _charming_ —manner that men like, but look at her, out there dancing with any man that asks, while you stand alone on the sidelines. Shameless.”

“It’s not her job to entertain me, Mrs. Collins. Phryne loves to dance and I’m not much for it. Not to this type of music anyway. Why shouldn’t she have a good time? I rather enjoy watching her.”

“You shouldn’t feel the need to make excuses for her behavior in front of me, dear,” she said, shaking her head. “A man in your position needs someone steadier. Someone supportive.”

“I wouldn’t dream of making excuses for her, she can speak for herself,” he said, smiling tightly. “Phryne is not just my girlfriend, she’s my best friend and we support each other equally. I assure you, I’m perfectly happy.”

“You’re just like my son,” she complained. “There’s no reasoning with a man in love! Mark my words, she will let you down.”

“Should that happen, it will be my problem, won’t it,” he said, coldly. He’d had about all he was willing to take, but his tone seemed to go right over the woman’s head.

“Jack. You’re still young and very handsome. Why if I was younger... you should play the field a little. Give her a taste of her own medicine. Look, there’s my cousin’s daughter now,” she took his arm. “Let me introduce you.”

Jack shook his head at the woman’s persistent obstinance and was searching for a way to extricate himself when they were mercifully interrupted by Mac. The look on Mrs. Collins’ face as she took in the decidedly masculine attire almost made Jack laugh out loud.

Jack thought Mac looked smashing in the tailored black tuxedo trousers, brocade vest and black silk jacket, but clearly Mrs. Collins was of another opinion.

“Lovely party, isn’t it!” Mac said, giving him a look that told him she’d witnessed the uncomfortable exchange and had purposely come to his rescue. “Mrs. Collins, I’ve been wanting to meet you. I think the world of your son. Hugh’s one the good guys.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Collins said. She accepted Mac’s outstretched hand tentatively as though it might be something explosive. “How nice of you to say so...Miss?”

“MacMillan. Elizabeth MacMillan, but everyone calls me Mac,” Mac said, pumping Mrs. Collins’ arm enthusiastically.

“And, how do you know my son?”

“Dr. MacMillan is the medical examiner,” Jack said, then laughed out loud when the woman snatched her hand from Mac’s grasp in alarm.

“You’re looking spiffy tonight, Jack,” Mac said, seemingly unperturbed by Mrs. Collins slight. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s this I hear about—”

“How about a dance!” Jack said, cutting her off and taking her elbow to steer her away. “Excuse us, Cecile.”

“A dance?” Mac said. “Are you serious?”

Claire, Jack had seen, was spending as much time on the dance floor as Phryne, but not with her partner. It seemed Mac and Jack had more in common than just their line of work.

“Alright, a drink then, I just didn’t want you to say anything in front of Mrs. Collins.”

“You didn’t want me to ask about you’re turning down a promotion in front of Mrs. Collins?” Mac said, giving him a strange look, which altered as dawning grew. “Oh. You thought I was going to let the cat out of the bag. I can keep a secret, you know. Even one as big as that. I gotta say, you’re a brave man.”

“I’m a lucky man.”

“That too,” she said. “She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her, by the way.”

“Are you saying you approve?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. I think it does. It’s not going to change anything, but I’d like to know what you think.”

“Then, I approve. Now, you said something about a drink?”

Not long after, Jack finally got his dance. Slow and close, just as he’d wanted. Phryne didn’t leave his side after that and they left the reception hand in hand. In the cab back to her apartment, she sat close with her head resting on his shoulder.

They rode in silent contentment. It was one of the things that had struck him about her early on. It was a rare thing to feel so comfortable being silent with another person, but, other than times when they’d been at odds, it had always been that way with her.

Other women had found his taciturn nature confounding, often mistaking it for a brooding or secretive personality. Some would push, trying to pick at a lock that didn’t exist. Others would take it personally, thinking he was holding himself at a distance from them.

Maybe he had been, though not intentionally. He just wasn’t, by nature, quick to open to others. It wasn’t out of fear of rejection or insecurity, as more than one girlfriend had tried to tell him. He was just serious and a bit introverted, routinely needing to think things through and assess a situation before jumping in. He knew it made him appear dull to some, but it was what it was, and he’d never felt the desire to change it.

She’d never seemed bothered by his occasional silence. The quiet moments with her, when nothing needed to be said, were among his favorites, and because she seemed to understand what was behind his silence, it’d been easier to be open with her.

In fact the way she’d opened him and slipped inside was a constant source of amazement to him. It had started the moment they met and before he even realized it, she’d moved in and felt as much a part of him as one of his own limbs.

When she’d left, he’d closed up again, but the place she’d opened and occupied had remained. Like an unused room in a too large house. Gathering dust and waiting stubbornly for her to return.

"Not even the rain," he murmured.

"What was that?" she asked sleepily.

"Nothing, love."

He filed the reference away, for now.

* * *

 

Jack sat forward on the wooden folding chair, elbows on the table, nervously chewing his thumbnail. He’d gotten here early so he could nab the one table that sat alone, and partially screened by some potted plants for a bit of privacy.

He couldn’t seem to keep his leg still. He kept noticing his knee bouncing up and down in agitation. He’d make himself stop, only to find it happening again moments later. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. She’d already said yes, a celebrant was engaged, and the paperwork filed. What was there to be nervous about?

“Phryne late tonight?” Shar kissed his cheek in greeting and poured a glass of water for him.

“I’m early,” he said, checking his watch. “She should be here soon. Could you bring a bottle of the Syrah we tried last time we were in?”

“Sure. Sam’s going to be sorry he missed you. He’s stuck at the vineyard tonight. He’s been worried about you with all we’ve been seeing in the news. You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a shit-show right now, but I’m okay. Better than okay.” He smiled, sincerely.

There’d been some pretty awful and stressful days, but he could come home—home being Phryne’s place now—and let it fall. She’d listen, advise if he wanted—and sometimes when he didn’t—and it would be better. Easier.

“Good,” Shar said, squeezing his shoulder. Jack had a feeling she knew where the source of his happiness lie. “You look happy. I’m glad for you Jack.”

Jack had known Sam and Sharon forever. Sam had been his first roommate at Uni. Jack had been there when Sam met Shar. He’d watched them fall in love. They’d married right out of school, struggling and saving until they could start the small winery that was their shared passion.

A few years ago they’d opened the little tasting room in town to showcase their wines and Jack had been one of their most loyal customers. He’d brought Phryne here for the first time shortly after Jo left. Maybe it should have connected then what she was to him, since even though they were nothing more than friends, he’d been reluctant to introduce her until he’d been free.

She’d hit it off with Sam and Shar right away. Of course she had. He’d yet to find anyone she didn’t charm, Hugh’s mom excepted. Shar returned with the wine, pouring out two glasses.

“You guys gonna want to eat? We’ve got a gumbo with chicken and andouille tonight.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“I’ll check back when Phryne gets here.”

“Yeah, sure, but, give us a few minutes, can you?”

Shar’s eyes opened wide. “For real?! Oh Jack! That’s fantastic!”

“I don’t know what you’re on about. I just want a minute to enjoy the wine,” he said, laughing.

“Sure you do. You take all the time you need, sweetie.” She patted his shoulder. “I won’t come back until I get the nod.”

“Am I late? Have you been waiting? Hi, Shar,” Phryne said, hurrying over.

Sharon gave Phryne a rather overenthusiastic hug for someone she’d seen only a week ago. She was grinning widely, like the cat that got the cream, and Jack made a mental note to tell Sam to never let his wife play poker.

Jack caught her eye with a warning look and she dialed it down, made a bit of small talk wth Phryne, and excused herself.

After fifteen minutes of carrying the conversation almost entirely on her own, Phryne set down her glass and sat back.

“Is something wrong, Jack? You’re awfully quiet tonight. Did something happen at work?”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box and began spinning it nervously in his hands. Her eyes lit up.

“Should I be expecting fireworks in a minute?” She teased, glancing around.

He set the box in the center of the table and reached for her hand.

“I’m not good with obvious sentiment,” he said.

“You don’t need to say anything, Jack. I know how you feel.”

“Maybe you do, but I want to tell you anyway. I’ve been trying to find a proper way to do this, something you’ll remember, but getting down on one knee at this point seems a little silly to me.”

“Jack,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’m not likely to forget and I don’t want you on your knees. Show it to me, please?”

She smiled, excitedly as he turned the box to face her and popped the lid. The smile dropped from her face and Jack felt the blood drain from his.

“Is it alright that it’s not a diamond?” He asked, anxiously.

“Where did you find this?” She said, plucking it from the box and turning it over in her hands with awe. His heart restarted.

“At an antiques dealer. Nothing in the jewelry stores seemed quite right. The lady said it’s a Columbian emerald. From the 1920’s. It should fit. I pinched one of your rings and had it properly sized.”

That had been presumptuous of him. If she hadn’t liked it, he couldn’t return it and it had cost a significant chunk of his savings. The dealer said she’d likely buy it back, but warned the price might be lower if the ring were altered.

He’d felt sure she’d like it and had gone ahead with getting it sized and cleaned. The large, square-cut, center emerald, and the two trillian cut diamonds on either side, were reset in platinum prongs so that the ring could be worn every day without worry.

“Do you like it? Try it on.”

“I love it, Jack. It’s extraordinary. Here,” she said, handing it to him, “will you put it on for me?”

It slid onto her finger with ease and she held up her hand, turning it this way and that, watching the setting sun glint off the stones.

“Phryne Fisher, will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

“Yes, Jack Robinson.” She leaned across and took his face in her hands. “I want to grow old looking at this face.”

Their lips touched together, softly, with promise.

“Oh my gawd! I knew it from the first time you brought her in here! You two are perfect together!” Shar was at their side, smacking Jack on the arm and pulling Phryne into an embrace, “This is so fantastic,” she blubbered, “I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Well, which is it?” Jack laughed, “You knew from day one, or you didn’t think it’d ever happen? You can’t have it both ways! And, what happened to waiting for the nod?"

“Oh shut up!” she said, “When are you going to get married? Or—I suppose you don’t know yet, right? I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m just so excited for you. I love weddings. Oh—I have a great idea! Do it here, or at the vineyard! I’ve been wanting to expand into hosting weddings. Been trying to talk Sam into it for ages but I know he’ll do it for you!”

Phryne was laughing at Shar’s enthusiasm and at the horrified look on Jack’s face as his friend gushed on, making plans for them.

“Actually, Shar, we’re just going to have a small ceremony at the registrars,” he said

“What? No way. You can’t just sneak off and get married all alone.”

“We’ll have a celebration later, it’s what we want, right?” He looked at Phryne for confirmation.

“Well—” she said.

“Well what?”

“It might be nice to have a few friends around,” she shrugged, giving him the smile of a woman that always got what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! Real life kept getting in the way. Then, I was hoping to wrap it up with this one last chapter but it just keeps going, so you'll have to put up with a bit more. 
> 
> I've also gotten very far behind in replying to comments! Please know that I read and adore every single one and am so happy people are still reading this. Thank you!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding. A honeymoon and then, happily ever after?
> 
> A shamelessly sappy chapter to send them on their way!

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I think I’ve been protesting too much. Trying to stay away from any romantic trappings. But, they’re not just trappings, are they? It’s a big thing we’re doing here. I want to share it with the people we love. The people who love us,” she said, “but what do you want, Jack? I don’t think I ever even asked, I just started making plans and you went along.”

“I just want to marry you,” he shrugged, “I don’t care where or how, so don’t feel you need to do this just to please me.”

“I’m not,” she said, “but would it be so terrible if I were? Why shouldn’t I want to please you?”

They settled on a Wednesday in the middle of May with a short ceremony and a following celebration at Sam and Shar’s tasting room.

Once they’d revealed their plans they had no shortage of people that wanted to help. Dot insisted on baking a cake. Claire wanted to help with the food and even Mac joined in, working with Sam and Shar to deck out the back patio with candles and twinkle lights.

Melbourne was experiencing a string of unseasonably warm days and the wedding day dawned as no exception.

Phryne woke when she felt Jack’s arm slip across her waist and his body spoon around hers.

“Sorry to wake you, love,” he said quietly, his warm breath ghosting over her ear making her shiver.

“Is it morning already?” She gripped his hand, pulling his arm tight around her.

“It is, and I’ve gotta head into the station for a couple of hours to make sure everything is tied up before we leave. You ready for today?”

“This is the easy part,” she said smiling, her eyes still closed.

“How’s that?”

“I spent way too much time afraid of this. Fighting it, or denying it. That was the hard part. Once I named it for what it was, the rest was easy. Loving you is easy, Jack.”

He rolled her onto her back and kissed her. She was doing it again, finding her way in so easily, banishing any doubt or fear he might harbor.

“I worship you,” he said.

“I know.”

“Try to remember that when loving me isn’t as easy as it is right now,” he said, kissing her nose and rolling out of bed. “Are you sure you don’t want me to clear out of here for the day? I could take everything with me now and get ready somewhere else.”

“Where would you go? This is your home. We’ll start the the way we intend to go on, together.”

“Alright,” he said, pausing to look at her, his eyes soft. “The next time we wake up together we’ll be husband and wife.”

“Having second thoughts, inspector?”

“Never,” he said with a smirk. “Go back to sleep, Fisher. You’ll want to be well rested for tonight.”

Phryne woke an hour later, slipped on her robe and went out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. One of the many benefits of living with Jack was the coffee. He was almost always up before her and she’d rise to a ready and waiting pot.

Her favorite mug was on the counter next to the coffee maker. Propped up against it was a note. She filled her cup, sat down at the table and read.

 

 

> "You’re right.” It began. “This part is easy. This is the only way we were ever going to end—by admitting that we never will.
> 
> I don’t need a contract or vows to make this real, I’m already yours in every way that matters. Inextricably. Eternally.
> 
> Marrying you today won’t change that or make it any more true. We will only be telling the world what we already know, and though I may not need to tell the world, I find I want to. So much it surprises me.
> 
> I want the world to know that I am yours.
> 
> Because I am, Phryne. Forever and always, I am yours.
> 
> I’m not always good at expressing in words the way you make me feel, so I’m shamelessly borrowing from E. E. Cummings.
> 
> —Ever and always, your Jack”

On a second sheet of paper was the Cummings poem written out in Jack's hand.

 

> _‘somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond_  
>  _any experience, your eyes have their silence:_  
>  _in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,_  
>  _or which i cannot touch because they are too near_
> 
> _your slightest look easily will unclose me_  
>  _though i have closed myself as fingers,_  
>  _you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens_  
>  _(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose_
> 
> _or if your wish be to close me, i and_  
>  _my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,_  
>  _as when the heart of this flower imagines_  
>  _the snow carefully everywhere descending;_
> 
> _nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals_  
>  _the power of your intense fragility: whose texture_  
>  _compels me with the colour of its countries,_  
>  _rendering death and forever with each breathing_
> 
> _(i do not know what it is about you that closes_  
>  _and opens; only something in me understands_  
>  _the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)_  
>  _nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands’_

 

* * *

With the temperature hovering above 20C in the late afternoon, Jack opted in favor of comfort, dressing in only two pieces of the blue suit he knew Phryne loved. He wore the trousers and vest, over a tailored shirt, open at the collar.

Phryne chose a dress she’d splurged on a few years earlier after seeing it walk the runway at the Vionnet show during Paris fashion week. It was a bias cut floor length gown with a deep V neckline and caped sleeves.

She loved the way the gown skimmed fluidly over her figure, but her favorite thing about it was the floral-print. The ivory silk georgette was printed with oversized, cobalt blue flowers and multi-colored butterflies. It was glamorous but joyful, with a sense of fun.

To add to the playful tone, she pilfered one of Jack’s ties. Striped in the same blue, black and yellow colors of her dress, it made a most unexpected accent when belted around her waist. It also filled the roles of something borrowed and blue in one.

She’d done her hair up in a loose chignon, adorned with a couple of small, rhinestone butterfly clips. The shorter layers fell free, wavy tendrils framing her face and accentuating her high cheekbones.

She left her neck unadorned. Her only jewelry was a pair of diamond and emerald drop earrings and her engagement ring.

Her last touch was to fold Jack’s note carefully and tuck it into her bra where it could rest near her heart.

She was always careful in appearance and knew what looked good on her, but standing in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, she could honestly say she’d never felt more beautiful. She attributed that more to her inner feelings of joy and nervous anticipation than any article of clothing, or her hair and makeup.

Jack was waiting in the front room when she emerged from the bedroom. He stood, an appreciative smile crossing his features. He clasped a hand over his heart.

“Give us a twirl, luv,” he said, playfully.

She obliged, turning once slowly, and then spinning faster, her arms thrown wide. A happy laugh escaped her chest. When she stopped, he was looking at her in a wholly different manner. All playfulness gone, his eyes a misty grey.

“You captivate me,” he said, huskily, and it took all her willpower not to throw herself into his arms and undo all her careful preparations.

They’d limited the guest list to friends they shared, and it was a small but happy gathering. Hugh and Dot, Bert and Cec, Mac and Claire, Mr. Butler, and Jane were there. Phryne’s mother and Archie had sent telegrams.

Claire had prepared a wonderful tasting menu to pair with Sam and Shar’s wines. It was such a successful collaboration that they wanted it to continue. It started with Claire being featured as a guest chef once a week and evolved until, six months later, Claire left her job as a sous chef to run the kitchen at the tasting room full time.

Phryne and Jack had insisted on paying for servers so that Sam, Shar and Claire could be part of the wedding festivities, but they still fussed over things, checking on the food and ensuring that everything was rolling along like clockwork.

Just before the dancing was to begin, Sam made sure everyone had a champagne glass in hand, and called for attention.

“I know I’m not required, nor have I been requested, to make a speech tonight, but this is my place, so you’re just going to have to put up with me.

“I’ve known Jack more years than I care to admit. A better, more loyal friend, doesn’t exist. There were many nights when he’d listen to me ramble on about my hopeless dream of one day owning my own vineyard and making wines. I was lucky enough to find a fellow dreamer in my Shar, and Jack took on the role of our biggest supporter.

“When we finally got our vineyard started, and couldn’t afford help, Jack would come out and let us put him to work. Even after a full day at his own, rather demanding, job.

“He encouraged us and convinced us to keep at it. He’s also been our most loyal customer here at the Tasting Room.

“Jack will say I’m overstating this, but without him, I’m not sure Flying Pig Vineyards would even exist, so it’s more than fitting that the first wedding we host be for him and his bride, Phryne.

“To mark this occasion, we’re debuting our first successful attempt at a sparkling rosé. It took a special blending of five grapes to produce, and we think, that just like our newlyweds, it’s the perfect mix. We’ve christened it in honor of their union. Flying Pig’s, Phryne x Jack Blend—sorry mate, your lovely wife comes first—something I thought you should learn as soon as possible.”

“Quite right, too!” Phryne shouted.

“Phryne, my darling,” Sam continued, “early in our acquaintance, I could see what a fantastic partner you are for my mate and how perfect you are for each other. He’s adored you from the start and you won Shar and me over immediately just by the way you looked at him. I think Shar and I knew what this was even before the two of you did. I could go on to say how lucky you are to have won his incredibly generous heart, but it seems to me that you are more than deserving of it, and that the two of you are equally lucky to have found each other.

“Now, before I become too sentimental, let’s all raise our glasses to the happy couple and get this party started!”

* * *

 She heard him slide into the pool and glide up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss to the side of her neck. 

She was very glad he hadn’t balked at her choice of honeymoon destination. Even allowing her to cover most of the cost.

The view from the over-water bungalow was incredible. Standing in their private pool, surveying the vast coral sea, with nothing but blue sky and water before her, she felt as though they were shipwrecked on a beautiful island and utterly alone. But, rather than fending for themselves amongst the wilds, they were in fabulously appointed accommodations.

The bungalows were built to afford extreme privacy and they’d spent the majority of the time wandering about naked. She found it was how she liked her husband best, and if she had her way, they’d never return to civilization.

Tomorrow, however, they’d have to dress. Jack wanted to snorkel along the great barrier reef. The tiny bikini she had planned for the trip was designed to torture him, though she was also looking forward to seeing the reef again herself.

He nibbled the lobe of her ear, his hand coming up to cup a breast as he pressed himself against her back.

“Damn. My wife is sexy.”

“My husband apparently has the appetite of a seventeen year old boy,” she said, wriggling against him just to hear him moan.

“You do nothing to discourage it, Fisher.”

“No,” she turned to face him, looping her arms around his neck. “I quite like it, inspector. I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough of you.”

“Are you happy, Phryne?”

“Infinitely so,” she said.

“I worry you’ll give up too much for me.”

“Such as?”

“I’m so much better with you, but I don’t ever want to be a burden. I don’t want to hold you back or make you feel tied down. I don’t want you to lose who you are because of me.”

“First of all, you don’t hold me back. You love me. That makes me soar,” she said, smiling in embarrassment at the sappy and slightly silly sentiment “Seriously, Jack. Who I was without you—I can live without her—because, even though she was pretty fabulous, who I am with you is even better. I’m happy, Jack. Don’t ever doubt it.”

He slid his hands over her and down to cup her bottom. She let herself float up, wrapping her legs around his hips, and once again, was glad of the extreme privacy the location afforded them.

* * *

They returned from their day at the reef tired but exhilarated.

“I can’t believe I’ve lived here my entire life and not seen that before!” Jack said.

“That really is rather sad, Jack. What else have you missed?”

“Plenty, I’m sure. You know I’m not well travelled. Not like you, anyway.”

“Well, good thing we met then. I plan to add a lot of excitement to your heretofore dull existence.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said seductively, snaking an arm around her waist and hustling her toward their bungalow.

“Good God, Jack! Really?” she laughed.

“You chose the bikini,” he argued, dragging her to him for a kiss.

She pulled away, her attention drawn to a commotion she witnessed over his shoulder. A bit of a crowd had gathered around the main lodge and a weeping, hysterical woman was at the center of it. Before Jack could stop her, Phryne was on her way over.

The woman was the very young bride of a wealthy, retired banking executive. Phryne and Jack had met them one night in the bar. The man was old enough be his wife’s grandfather. In their brief conversation they’d learned couple had been staying at the bungalows for a month while some renovations were being made to the man’s nearby mansion to please his bride.

Today, upon returning to their rooms after a morning at the spa, the wife had found her husband dead on the bathroom floor.

Taking a short detour to stroll past the scene of the man’s demise, Phryne and Jack saw the coroner’s van parked out front and a flurry of activity. As they watched, a young constable began cordoning off the perimeter with yellow crime scene tape.

Jack could feel Phryne start to vibrate with excitement at his side.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “It could still be nothing more than natural causes. Or, my money’s on an adverse reaction to medication he took to keep up with her.”

“There’s something more here. I can feel it,” she said, in a tone that made his heart sink.

“It’s our honeymoon,” he said, trying to sound stern and uncooperative as the detective in him pushed stubbornly to the surface. He’d already spotted three things the constable had done to compromise the scene.

“A busman’s holiday, Jack!” Phryne cried. “After all, it is what we do best!”


End file.
